


Anew | Junhao

by Just_Saph



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Anxiety, Drama, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Homophobic Language, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Romance, Teen Angst, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 18:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 22,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Saph/pseuds/Just_Saph
Summary: Minghao has everything he needs.He's gorgeous. Popular. Athletic. Smart. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.But if you dare to dive into the icy waters, you'll discover things that he desperately tries to drown. Things that rip him to pieces and destroy who he is.After a surprise seating arrangement places Minghao next to fellow foreigner, Wen Junhui, and as his secrets threaten to break the surface of the frigid sea, Minghao struggles to hide himself, and hide his growing feelings for the older boy, while attempting to prevent imminent catastrophes that are sneaking up on him, day after day.Follow the journey Minghao takes, and watch as he encounters self worth, care, and love.(This story is also on Wattpad under the same title).





	1. 1

I stand in front of the mirror, my ghostly figure staring back at me. My prominent cheekbones are framed by my greasy black hair, hanging like a dank curtain. Opening the windows to my soul.

The windows are empty, dark, naïve. Sunken and weary.

As I lightly run my tongue over my dry lips, I let my eyes stray farther south, to my protruding clavicles, my skinny ribs, my pelvis that juts out, threatening to break out of my skin.

Then, my arms and legs. Dangling weakly, barely attached to the rest of my body.

A seventeen year old boy who is five feet and ten inches tall should be roughly one hundred and fifty pounds, give or take. And I knew damn well that I was thirty five pounds below this figure. I know because I've checked three times this morning, once when I woke up, once after I went on my morning jog, and once after I had breakfast, which consisted of two strawberries.

I leave the bathroom, but not before I check my weight again. I'm still one hundred and fifteen pounds. One hundred and fifteen point two, to be exact.

I'd have to work on rounding that back to one fifteen. Even better, maybe I could be at one hundred and ten by the end of the week.

Once I return to my room, I dress in loose jeans and a thick, woolen sweater, even though it was going to be about eighty five degrees today. I don't want anyone lying to me and telling me how skinny I am, and tell me how worried they are. Because they're all wrong. I'm dieting to get rid of my excess fat. I'm dieting to prevent myself from being fat, or should I say, more fat. Because I'm already dangerously close to getting to a normal BMI, and if my BMI is normal, that's one step closer to getting to an overweight BMI, and overweight means  _fat._

I already have my excuses locked and loaded if anyone notices my bones showing through my translucent skin.

_I'm a premature baby. I've always been skinny. Don't worry._

This is partially true. I was born one month early. So I never feel too bad when I lie to the person asking.

Even though I know they don't give a damn. They're just freaked out by how alien like I am. They pretend to care, but they don't. I know they don't. Most barely even know me, so how the hell could they care?

I don't know what's worse: having people tell me how much they care and being convinced they're liars, or hearing their comments.

_You're like a walking skeleton._

_You're practically skin and bones!_

_You need to eat more._

_You_   _look freaky._

_Girls don't like guys who look like they starve themselves._

_What's wrong with you?_

_Are you being abused?_

_Do you not have enough money to eat?_

_Should I call the school counselor?_

**_Are you anorexic or something?_ **


	2. 2

"Sports signups are today."

I pace through the halls with my closest friend in this dimly lit life, Kim Mingyu.

"Yeah," I muse as we approach our first and only class of the day that we share, Ancient History. "What sport will you do? Track?"

"Of course," he snickers, lightly hitting my arm. He stops when his hand makes contact with my bony shoulder. "Minghao, did you eat breakfast this morning?"

I nod truthfully. "Yep."

"What did you eat?"

"Fruit."

"What kind?"

"Strawberry."

"Just strawberries?"

"Yeah."

"How many strawberries did you eat?"

"Two, but I had Taco Bell last night and was shitting like a rabid goose, so I'm taking it easy." The last part of that is a lie. I had a bowl of rice for dinner, energizing and filling. Perfect.

"Are you sure?"

"I think I know my eating habits better than you, Mingyu."

The older boy purses his lips as he sits down at the desk we share. I set my backpack onto the rough carpet and perch next to him.

"I just worry when you get so skinny," he murmurs.

I sigh, placing my hand on his in a friendly way. "I'm a skinny boy, remember? I'm fine."

"Yeah, okay," Mingyu mumbles, still sounding unsure.

The bell tolls, and our teacher, Mr. Lee, drowsily greets us with a weary hello, which we say back.

"How was everyone's weekend?"

"Good," I grin. "I went to a party on Friday night, it was hella lit."

"Yeah," Joshua, one of my trackmates, sneers. We exchange a knowing glance and a short laugh, while others who didn't attend the party look around, puzzled. Long story short, I managed to hook up Joshua with a cheerleader. And he couldn't be happier.

"I'm glad to hear that," Mr. Lee says without even remotely trying to hide how uninterested he was in the party. "Before we start class, we have a new student here. He's attended this school for awhile, but will be joining us for the second semester of Ancient History." He gestures to a tall, unfamiliar boy, his dark hair neatly combed and his eyes glittering. "Do you want to introduce yourself, Jun?"

He shrugs, and steps up. "I'm Wen Junhui, but call me Jun. I'm a senior, and that's it." I can't help but notice his Chinese accent as he sits back down. Come to think of it, he did have a very Chinese name.

"So, we wrapped up our unit on Mesopotamian society last week, and as you all may remember, we switch seats at the beginning of every new unit. So gather your stuff, and please pay attention as I read off the chart." Our teacher stands, and paces to the front row, where three large desks for two rest. I get up with my friend, and we move to the back of the room as Mr. Lee begins to read off names.

"Seokmin and Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Wendy, Joshua and Jennie." Joshua beams at me when Mr. Lee announces the name of the cheerleader, Jennie Kim, that he managed to sleep with. The two smirk as they sit next to each other, and I see their fingers intertwine under the table. Mr. Lee moves on to the second row once the first is settled in. "Mingyu and Wonwoo." Mingyu smiles at me bittersweetly when his name is paired with one that doesn't belong to me. "Irene and Yeri. Jisoo and Dino."

"Bye," Mingyu says, hurrying to his new seat. I nod, bidding him farewell as he plops down next to Wonwoo.

"Jihoon and Joy. Rose and Vernon. Minghao and Jun." I hold onto my things as I move to the chair next to Jun's. He smiles kindly as I sit, and he does the same.  
"Sorry," he whispers, his breath smelling like jasmine. "Are you Chinese? I couldn't help but notice that your name sounds like you are."

"I am," I concede with a smile.

"Taehyung and Seungcheol, Lisa and Jeonghan, Jin and Namjoon." The students continue to sit as Jun and I begin to strike up a conversation in our native tongue.

"Do you speak Chinese well?" he asks in the language.

"Yes," I answer back in Mandarin. "I speak it at home."

"Me too," he grins. "Is it okay if I mostly talk to you in Chinese? My Korean isn't the best."

"Same," I admit. "And yeah, that's fine. In fact, I think I'd prefer it if you and I talked in Chinese."

"Oh, perfect!" he beams as Mr. Lee announces the last row of the seating chart.

"Jungkook and Jimin, and then we'll have a group of three back here. Yoongi, Hoseok, and Seulgi." The boys snicker as they head to the back of the classroom, while Seulgi rolls her eyes. The last two guys were the main troublemakers, and I can't help but glance over at my partner.

"How long do you think they'll stay together?"  
"It'll be a miracle if they aren't separated by the end of class," Jun giggles. "Hey, this is kind of fun! We have our own secret language! We can say whatever we want, and no one will know!"

"I guess," I shrug, sharing his contagious laughter.

I figured that having to share a desk with someone other than Mingyu would be torturous. But maybe this wouldn't be all too bad.


	3. 3

"Open your textbooks up to page two hundred and fifty, and get out a piece of paper and a something to write with," Mr. Lee drones as I obediently obey his orders. The shining pages illustrate the Pyramids and the Sphinx, along with a headline praising the Egyptians. "As you can probably see, our next unit will be on Ancient Egypt." I smile to myself as I lean over again, grabbing my binder and flipping to the back where I kept my notebook paper.

"Do you want one?" I ask Jun, who had his book open to pages identical to mine.

"Sure," he shrugs as I take out two sheets, handing one to him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I reply as Mr. Lee begins to speak again.

"So, title your paper  _'What We Know About Ancient Egypt,'_ please." I do as he says, my handwriting scrawling across the smooth surface. "We're going to write down everything we know right now, or everything we think we know, and after this unit is over, we'll write down everything we know then. Hopefully, it'll be more than what we know now," he smirks. "Does anyone want to start?"

Seungkwan raises his hand. "They lived in Egypt."

We all giggle, and Mr. Lee sighs. "Not necessarily, but alright. We can write that down. Even though it isn't entirely true."

"Well," Seokmin whines. "If they didn't live in Egypt, why are they called Egyptians?"

"They  _mostly_  lived in Egypt," Mr. Lee answers. "However, they also inhabited parts of the Middle East, sections of Libya, and modern day Sudan. This region is actually known as Nubia."

"Noob," Soonyoung snorts, and the class erupts in laughter.

"Boob," Jungkook wheezes as we all shriek with ecstasy.

"Very funny," Mr. Lee sighs again. "Just write down that they lived in Egypt, please."

We continue to write, whispering remarks to each other and exchanging hushed chuckles.

"Oh!" Jeonghan beams. "They had pyramids!"

"No shit, sherlock!" Seungcheol sneers.

"Language," Mr. Lee scolds. "And yes, the Ancient Egyptians are likely best known for their engineering skills, especially for building the Great Pyramids of Giza. Write that down." The classroom is filled with the sounds of pencil scraping against paper and murmurs resonating through the room. "What else?"

"They have the Sphinx," Jun volunteers timidly.

"Yes, they did," Mr. Lee says encouragingly as I write down Jun's suggestion.

"Nice," I whisper.

"Thanks, I guess," Jun smiles. His lips stretch in a delightful way, flaunting the pearls adorning his mouth. They shine in the fluorescent lighting, almost like the contents of a stowed away chest, brimming with glittering gold.

"Didn't they walk kind of weird?" Lisa inquires.

"Yeah," Irene perks up. "Like this." She stands and arranges her arms so they're bent in ninety degree angles, one palm facing the ceiling and the other parallel to the linoleum floor. She takes a few steps, bobbing her head and shuffling her shoulders.

"That's a bit of a stereotype," Mr. Lee confesses. "But you can write that if you want. Thank you for the demonstration, Irene."

"You're welcome!" The senior grins, taking her seat and running her fingers through her luscious brown hair.

"This might sound weird," Dino confesses. "But I think I saw somewhere that they drew with symbols. I can't remember what they were called though."

"That is correct," Mr. Lee answers merrily. "They were called hieroglyphs. Thank you, Dino."

"Oh, sure," he blushes. I scribble down the information the class supplies as another student, Vernon, speaks up.

"They had mummies, right?"

"Yes, they did," Mr. Lee confirms. "However, the Egyptians were not the only civilization to mummify their dead. But that's for another lesson. Now," he claps his hands. "I want you all to spend the rest of the period reading this chapter, and answering these questions." He paces to his desk and picks up a stack of white papers. "They will be due by tomorrow, because you'll have plenty of time today to work on them." Mr. Lee walks by our desks, passing out the crisp sheets. I thank him as two flutter onto our desk, and Jun passes one to me.

"Can we listen to music?" Mingyu asks. Typical Mingyu. That boy couldn't go a day without his music or he'd probably have an aneurysm. It was one of the reasons we bonded so well. We both loved music more than anything else.

"Yes, as long as it isn't a distraction," Mr. Lee replies. A collection of silent cheers ripple throughout the classroom as people begin to take out their earbuds and phones. I slide mine out of my bag and open up my phone, on my way to access my Spotify playlists.

"Hey," Jun smirks over my shoulder. "You have Snapchat?"

"Yep," I answer.

"You should add me."

I tap on the familiar little ghost, and hand Jun my phone. He punches in a few letters before handing it back to me. He then takes out his and accepts the friend request he sent me.

"Now we're officially friends!"

"We don't need Snapchat to validate if we're friends or not," I laugh. I return to my home screen and tap on the Spotify icon. I finally select a playlist that plays literally anything and everything. So far, I was fairly certain that I had almost every genre of music in there.

"Shit," Jun hisses through his teeth. "My headphones just broke."

"Oh, damn," I murmur. "You can use one of my earbuds, but you'll have to deal with my weird taste in music."  
"Sure," he says. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"No problem," I reply with a smile while hitting shuffle. Monsta X begins to play.

_A little jealousy._

"Ah," he grins. "I like this song."

"Same," I smirk as the first verse courses through the headphones. I crank up the volume. "My playlist has pretty much everything on it, heads up."

"That's fine," he says sweetly.

"Okay."

And for the rest of class, we listen to a mixture of Weki Meki, Coldplay, Nirvana, Beethoven, and Carrie Underwood. Silently answering the various questions regarding ancient Egyptian culture on the paper, scanning the textbook for answers.

Both of us are content.


	4. 4

"Hey, Minghao," Jun says as we begin to pack up. "Can I sit with you at lunch?"

I nod. "Sure. Who do you usually sit with?"

He blushes, looking down at his tattered backpack. "No one."

My heart suddenly aches for the boy. "Why not? Don't you know anyone here?"

"Not really," he concedes. "I usually just chill out in the library."

"Well," I smile. "You're sitting with me and my friends today. Deal?"

He grins. "Deal."

Lunch with Jun.

Then I remember that he's going to ask me what everyone else asks.

_Why aren't you eating?_

I guess he sees my face fall, because his eyebrows furrow in worry and he steps closer to me. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah," I stammer. "Fine."

"If it's because of me," he mumbles, "I'm really sorry."

"No," I say quickly. "Jun, I'm fine. You didn't do-"

"You know," he says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "It's okay. Really, it is. You don't have to eat with me at lunch."

"Jun, it isn't you-"

"See you tomorrow," he murmurs, hurrying past me and out the door.

_Goddamnit._

***

When the lunch bell rings, I speed to the library and find Jun at a table, chewing on a baloney sandwich.

I drop my backpack next to his and sit down with him, folding my hands together and facing the older boy.

"Hi."

"Hi," he answers meekly, his mouth filled with bread.

"Come on," I smirk, reaching for his arm. "We're going to the cafeteria."

"No, it's okay," he assures me, setting down his sandwich. "I'm fine here."

"And you're gonna be even finer in the cafeteria with me and my pals." I stand up, offering him a hand. "Yay or nay?"

He looks at my fingers, then at me. Finally, he shoves his sandwich into a plastic bag and tosses the meal into his lunch sack, grabbing it with one hand and taking mine with the other. "Yay," Jun smiles sweetly.

I grin in return, and tug him out of the tranquil library, down the hall, and into the bustling cafeteria. I scan the crowded tables, and find my friend circle, consisting of Mingyu, Joshua, and Dino towards the center of the mayhem. We walk to them, hand in hand.

"Hey guys," I say, teeth bared in a kind expression. "S'okay if Jun sits with us?"

"Of course it is," Dino beams, scooting over to make room for us. We sit, and Jun takes his sandwich out of his bag again. I realize I'm still clutching his palm, and I let go, wiping my sweaty hand on my jeans. He glances at me, smiles again, and bites into his lunch.

"So," Mingyu says as Jun eats. "Are you really new here?"

He shakes his head. "No," he answers assertively. "I live here, and I go to school here for one year."

Something about the way he speaks Korean is funny, but not in a teasing way.

It's almost adorable.

"Okay," Dino says encouragingly. "What school did you go to before you came here?"

Jun looks at me, puzzled.

I repeat what Dino said, but in Chinese, and he answers back in our language.

"Could you tell him my Korean is shit and I went to school in Shenzhen?"

"Yeah," I reply, before switching back to Korean. "Jun says that he went to school in Shenzhen and that he doesn't speak Korean well."

"Oh," Mingyu says understandingly. "Okay. That's okay, Jun."

"Sorry," he blushes.

"Don't be sorry!" Dino smiles. "Hey, Joshua, did you hear that? Someone else other than Minghao who's bilingual!" Jun gives me another confused look.

"He's saying that there's finally someone else here other than me and Joshua who speak two languages," I tell him in Chinese. "Joshua was born in Los Angeles, so he speaks English and Korean."

"I see," Jun nods. I glance at Joshua, who seems to be daydreaming. Dino swats the older boy's arm and he snaps out of his stupor.

"Hi, what? Oh, hey Jun!" He waves to my desk partner, and he giggles a bit.

"How rude," Mingyu shakes his head. "What are you doing, anyways? Fantasizing about Jennie's boobs?"

"Shut up!" he whines, and I snort.

"Hey," Jun says worriedly, tugging on my sleeve. I turn to him, and he glances at the empty space in front of me, whereas everyone else's places on the table were occupied by food. "Where's your lunch?"

Of course, this is the one thing he decides to say in Korean for everyone to hear.

"Home," I say confidently, even though my anxiety levels are soaring into the stratosphere. "I don't like the school lunches, so I eat when I go home."

"Why is it not here?"

"What do you mean?"

Jun switches to Mandarin. "Why do you not just bring lunch from home and eat it here?"

"It's because I always forget it," I smirk, my laughter hiding my pain, mental and physical. "But don't worry about me."

"No," Jun pouts, his lower lip jutting out slightly. "Here." He hands me the uneaten half of his sandwich. "Take it. I still have an apple and some chips."

"Oh," I wave my hand. "I'm fine, Jun. Thank you, though."

"Please," Jun begs, his grip tightening on my arm. I immediately yank away from him on instinct. 

If he felt how bony I was, I would be in big trouble.

A flash of what looks like pain darts between his eyes, and I quickly return to him. "I'm sorry, Jun. Really. I'm just not hungry."

He lowers his head. "Wanna know how you can forgive me?"

"How?"

He shoves his hand with the sandwich in my direction. "Eat."


	5. 5

I stare at the mushed up sandwich, meat, lettuce and mayonnaise leaking from the crusts.

_So many calories._

"I'm not hungry," I repeat uncertainly. Joshua, Dino and Mingyu look at us in confusion. I remember that we have been conversing in Chinese, but I know that they probably have the gist of what's going on.

"Please just eat this," he murmurs. "You offered a place for me to sit at lunch. So this is my way of thanking you."

How could I possibly turn that down?

But there are probably at least three hundred calories in that thing.

_At least._

I curl my lip and take the sandwich from him, shaking.

"See?" Jun speaks in Korean. "You are shaking."

"Yeah," Joshua says a bit nervously. "You are."

"Just cold," I assure them, steeling my nerves as I clutch the sandwich, my fingers digging into the soft bread. I raise the meal to my mouth, trying to ignore how much the sandwich weighs and how many calories it was worth and how long it would linger in my system and how much fat was in that mayonnaise and how much mayonnaise was on the sandwich.

"It doesn't taste bad," Jun assures me. "At least, to me it doesn't."

I nod, closing my eyes.

And I gingerly take a bite.

It's hard to resist from squeezing my eyes shut even tighter. Instead, I maintain a neutral expression, indignantly chewing on the food.

"Swallow," Mingyu teases, and I do as he says.

"You sounded so dominant when you said that," Dino giggles.

"He sure as hell hasn't had any practice," Joshua snickers.

"It tastes great," I tell Jun, even though I hardly tasted it at all. I hardly taste anything anymore.

"That's what she said," he beams, and my friends burst into fits of laughter. I roll my eyes, cracking a grin.

"Very funny," I snort.

"Now, finish it," he commands in Mandarin. "I want to make sure you get your nutrients."

The bite I took was probably a sixth of what was left in the sandwich. So if there was three hundred calories in that thing, I just ate fifty calories.

Oh my God.

I just ate fifty whole calories in less than thirty seconds.

"Jun," I tell the boy. "I'm eating when I get home, remember? I'm not hungry, anyways. I already had a big breakfast."

"What did you eat for breakfast?"

"What'd he say?" Mingyu inquires.  _Shit._  Mingyu knew exactly what I ate for breakfast because I told him that I only had two strawberries.

"He was just saying that I don't need to eat anymore of the sandwich," I lie, setting it down. I switch back to Chinese, and face Jun. "I'm okay. Really."

"I'll force feed you!" Jun picks up the sandwich and cups my face with his slender hands. "Here comes the airplane!"

Now I'm really screwed.

I don't fight him. I just let my friend bring the food to my chapped lips and I annoyedly open up, taking a minuscule bite. Chewing it until it's practically liquid. Swallowing in small intervals.

"You take forever to eat," he giggles, prodding me with the bread. "We'll do this until you finish it."

I finally give up, letting him feed me, nipping at the food that sits in my stomach like cement.

"Aw," Mingyu beams. "This is adorable! I have to put this on my Snapchat."

"Don't you fucking dare," I growl. I realize how hostile that sounded, so I reassure my friend with a smile. "This is really weird, I don't want to cringe later."

"Fine," Mingyu sighs, a grin creeping up on his slender face.

I continue to eat, and with every bite, a bolt of painful anxiety claws at my gut.

_You're eating too much._

_At this rate, you'll get fat._

_Do you want to get addicted to this shit and end up obese?_

_No one will love you if you're like that._

"Last bite," Jun assures me with a happy expression. He makes an airplane noise as he pops the last of the sandwich into my mouth, and I chew it up into sludge, a sore feeling in my stomach as I swallow it. It feels like I've ingested a rock.

And it needs to come back up.

"I have to take a shit," I say quickly, before swiftly standing and jogging to the bathrooms, ignoring the confused looks others give me. I bust in and stumble to a stall, kicking it closed before clutching the toilet seat and emptying my stomach. Letting the bile and water carry that damn sandwich into oblivion. It scalds my throat and breaks the dams behind my eyes, letting tears flow freely.

I retch one more time before fumbling for the toilet paper next to me, wiping my mouth and spitting into the bowl before weakly flushing down what I've eaten in the past twenty four hours.

Two strawberries.

A bowl of rice.

And half of a baloney sandwich.

Roughly seven hundred calories.

_Too many._


	6. 6

"Minghao?"

My head snaps towards the stall door.

I've locked myself in there for a good ten minutes, knees pulled to my chest, rocking back and forth.

I'm cleansed. I can have a new start.

My slate is clean.

I say nothing as I listen to Jun pace, from left to right. My phone buzzes, and I see a message from Jun.

Jun: i kno ur there

"Jun," I say quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Can I take a shit in peace?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just taking a shit."

"I can see you on the floor, dumbass."

Fuck.

"Go away," I snap, suddenly feeling incredibly enraged. He's the one who made me sick. He should've respected my decision.

"I was just trying to help, Minghao-"

"Yeah, you fucking helped me alright!" I cry out. "Leave me alone. Jesus."

Silence.

Then, I hear him sniffle and storm out.

***

"What," Mingyu hisses, "the fuck, is wrong with you?"

We lean against the hallway walls, facing the sign up sheets for track.

"Nothing," I stammer, writing my name in cursive below the other entries. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Many things," he admits. "But at least I didn't yell at a new kid who was just trying to give me his lunch."

"Mingyu," I sigh, lowering my hand. "I just don't want to get fat. I'm already getting there."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," he sighs, snatching the pencil from my hand. "You're literally as skinny as a rail!"

"Don't lie to me," I snarl. "You and I know that's a lie."

"The only liar here is you," Mingyu says angrily as he signs the sheet. "You know, Minghao?" Mingyu gives me my pencil, his fists clenched. "Whenever you say that you, a walking skeleton, are fat, you make other people who aren't as skinny feel bad about themselves. Minghao, I'm not necessarily small!" He throws his brutish, muscled arms into the air.

"You aren't," I tell him. "But you're healthy. You're muscular. You're strong. There's a difference between being obese and being a hunk. You're a hunk. And I'm fat."

"Minghao, you aren't fat. In fact, I worry about your weight, day and night. Because you're so goddamn skinny." I look away from my friend as I shove my pencil back into my backpack.

"I'm fat."

"No you're not! Jesus, look in the mirror!" Mingyu takes out his phone, and opens up the camera. Suddenly, I see a flash, and he's scrolling through the device. "See?" Mingyu places it in front of my eyes. It's a picture of me.

I hate how dark the bags are under my eyes.

I hate how red and dry my lips are.

I hate how ugly I am.

"By saying you're fat," he murmurs, "you make others feel bad about themselves. So not only are you hurting yourself, you're hurting everyone else."

I stare at Mingyu, my eyes watering.

And then, I leave. Slinging my bag over my shoulder and stumbling away, out of the school, and onto the sidewalk.

He doesn't get it.

He never will get it.

Why can't I fucking be perfect?

Why can't I have the body everyone wants?

Why do I hurt others like this?

They're good people. I'm not. They deserve the best. I don't.

All I deserve is a rotting coffin to call home, buried half a dozen feet below the ground. Far away from everyone and everything.

I wipe away my tears before I walk inside my house, facing my father.

He doesn't notice I'm home.

"Hi," I say. His answer is nonexistent. He's buried in his work, furiously typing God knows what.

Making my way to my room, I shrug off my backpack and toss it onto the floor once I'm inside my bedroom. Then, I head to my dresser, taking off my clothes and changing into my running gear. Gym shorts, an Under Armour shirt, jogging shoes.

I grab my phone and jam my earbuds into my ears, playing my music. Loona. Not bad.

Then, I hurry to the fridge in the kitchen, fetching a frigid water bottle to keep me hydrated on my run.

I stride to the front door again, but before my hand can find the knob, I feel my headphones leave my ears violently, and my phone crashes to the floor.

I turn and my father's dark eyes meet mine. Fuming and furious.

"You know," he says calmly. But I can hear the undertone of ire in his gravelly voice. Marred by years of smoking. "If someone calls your name, you need to answer them."

How ironic.

I face my hypocrite of a father. "I'm sorry, I was listening to music."

"God," he grumbles, picking up my phone and turning it on. "Loona? You listen to this faggot shit?"

"How is it faggot shit?"

"Underage girls prancing around and singing in voices higher than Snoop Dogg on 4/20," my dad snorts. "Pathetic. I didn't raise my son to be like this."

"I mean," I say daringly. "I don't see why it's a problem. But I'll respect your opinion." I gently take my phone back from him, and place one headphone in my ear. "I'm gonna go for a run. Do you need anything?"

"No," he scoffs, waving me away. "Bye."

"See you later." I step outside and close the door before donning the other earbud, pressing play, and amping up the volume until I can't hear anything else.

Then, I let myself fly freely across the pavement, keeping a good pace for the two mile run around town.

And even though my father needs nothing, I still stop at the store and buy something I know someone else needs.

Hopefully, he can accept this as my apology.


	7. 7

Before the bell rings for first period, I give Jun the pair of headphones I purchased during my run.

"I'm sorry for acting like a dick," I say quietly, offering him the black pair. He eyes them before kindly accepting my gift.

"It's okay," he replies. "I'm sorry I forced you to eat that sandwich. Are you gluten intolerant or something?"

Although it hurts, I know I have to lie to him. "Yeah." Even though celiac disease doesn't even induce vomiting, it was still a good alibi. In fact, it was almost cute that Jun jumped to that conclusion.

"God," he sighs. "I'm so sorry. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I wanted to be nice," I say sheepishly. "But don't worry about it. It's out of my system now."

"I still feel bad," he murmurs as we sit down. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm positive." The fib tastes like acid on my lips.

"Fine," he huffs. "Do you have lunch today?"

"Once again," I reassure him, "it's at home."

"I want you to bring one tomorrow," he commands. "So I know you're eating."

"Why are my eating habits your concern, anyways?"

"Because," he falters. "Because, well,"

"Exactly." I pat his hand. "I'm okay, I pinky promise." We hook our little fingers and shake.

"Okay." He isn't convinced, but it's the best I can do.

He sounds a lot like Mingyu right now.

"Alright," Mr. Lee exclaims. "Get out the questions we worked on yesterday. I'll be checking to see if you finished them."

Jun and I open up our binders, ripping the weathered sheets out of the plastic sleeves.

I set mine on my desk as Mr. Lee passes. He scrutinizes the paper before checking it with a red pen. He does the same to Jun's work.

I find myself fidgeting again as Mr. Lee grades the papers. Just by bouncing my leg and tapping my fingers, I'm burning about three hundred and fifty calories a day. If I fidget for all of Ancient History, a one hour class, I burn about one hundred calories. For the rest of the day, I'm always moving subconsciously. So I'm getting quite the work out by doing practically nothing. Combined with my runs that burn the same amount, I'm losing about seven hundred calories a day.

Estimates show that three thousand and five hundred calories is equivalent to one pound. So, in five days, I usually lose about one pound just from exercising. If I limit my eating portions, I can lose up to three pounds a week. Once, after one rough week at school, I lost five.

"Hey," Jun whispers. "You okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem anxious," he says soothingly. The boy gently places his hand on mine. "Relax."

I feel my foot slow to a stop, and his fingers freeze mine in their place. He smiles at me.

"If I let go, will you calmeth downeth?"

Maybe.

"Probably not."

"Then I won't let go." He links his hand with mine, knotting our fingers together, and squeezes lightly. Would he notice how bony my hand was? Would he start interrogating me?

His words echo in my head again.

Relax.

I stare at him, and return his infectious joy, keeping our connection as Mr. Lee begins to lecture again.

"So," he broods. "I would like to start a project on Ancient Egyptian culture, where you and a partner make a poster on an aspect of this civilization. Now," he says loudly as people begin to look for partners. "You're teamed up with your table partners. Yoongi, Hoseok and Seulgi will be a group of three."

I look over at Jun, who gives me a goofy grin.

"Yay!" he beams.

"Yay," I answer with an equal yet dulled sense of mirth.

"I'll be drawing names, and your group will choose from this list of topics to study." He makes another round past us, papers with instructions fluttering onto the desks. I examine mine closely, and the first topic that jumped out at me was mummification and Egyptian burial rituals. I quickly tighten my grip on Jun's hand to get his attention and point to the long word. He nods encouragingly, giving me a thumbs up to agree with my suggestion.

"Okay," Mr. Lee grumbles from the front of the room. "Choosing randomly. Our first group to choose will be, ah, let me see. Wonwoo and Mingyu."

The two exchange a giddy look. "Architecture, please," Wonwoo says courteously.

A collection of sighs ripple through the still class. Mr. Lee writes down their requests, and chooses another group, Taehyung and Seungcheol. Who choose royalty.

The next is Jisoo and Dino, who ask to study agriculture. Then, Rose and Vernon, who immediately request mythology and religion. Finally, Jun's name is called.

He studies the word closely, struggling to pronounce it. "Moom-moomee-mummee-"

"Mummification," I whisper.

"Yes," he pipes up. "Mummification and Egyptian burial rituals."

"Awesome," Mr. Lee says as he scribbles our names down. I notice Namjoon from another group glancing at us, his eyes flickering from our clasped hands to us. Then, he nudges his partner, Jin, smirking.

I immediately let go of Jun's fingers, shooting him a nasty glare. Jun peers at me, innocent and flabbergasted.

Namjoon chuckles quietly, whispering something to Jin, the latter looking timid and uncomfortable. I shake my head and take out my textbook, passive aggressively opening to the chapter on Egypt. My legs begin to move again, and now that Jun can't hold me still, my hands are shaking and convulsing on the desk surface.

But as Mr. Lee tells us we can use our phones, for research purposes only, and as I reach down to grab my device, Jun takes my quivering hand again.

"Thank you," I murmur.

He nods kindly, keeping our linked hands under the table. "Are they laughing at me because I can't pronounce that word?"

"No," I say softly.

"Is it because we're holding hands?"

"I think so."

"Well," he shrugs. "If you don't feel comfortable with it, tell me."

"No," I say quickly. In a way, Jun was like my lifeline. He calmed me in a weird sort of way.

He was different.

"Okay," he says with a smile. "I mean, if you're worried about people thinking we're-"

"I'm not," I assure him.

Then, I decide to make a risky move.

Hell, I hardly know Jun. But I know I can tell him something that only Mingyu, Joshua, Dino, and my dark closet is familiar with.

"After all, no one really knows I'm bisexual, so they can't jump to conclusions yet."


	8. 8

Jun's eyes widen, his jaw dropping a centimeter or two. I'm not sure if he's disgusted or surprised or both, however he's still holding onto my hand, so that's a good sign.

"O-Oh," he stammers. "Wow. That's awesome. I'm glad you trust in me enough to tell me something so personal, so, thank you."

"Thank you for accepting it so well," I retort, elated.

"Of course," he grins broadly. "It's cool to see other people like me around here."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah," he blushes, facing our paper again. "I'm bi, but I prefer boys. So I'm, like, seventy five percent gay."

"A bit of an uneven rainbow," I smirk.

"Please," he scoffs. "The rainbow is as straight as me."

"Fucking same," I snort.

Jun is bisexual.

Like me.

Goddamn.

For the rest of class, we research mummies. How their organs are extracted, the sarcophagi they are stored in, the afterlife beliefs, all that jazz. I find myself scooting towards Jun at times, always looking for an excuse to be closer to him. And I'm really hoping that he doesn't think it's weird.

He calms me.

It's like all of my fears are gone. My internal calorie counter, my rumbling stomach, my increasing paranoia. I feel normal around him.  
I don't know if it's his jasmine scent or his pearly whites or his glittering irises or his plump lips or his oval jawline or his adorably small nose or what, but I've realized that my feelings for Jun are beginning to stray past friendly.

Am I really falling for a boy I met yesterday?  
I mean, I guess I've technically known him for awhile. After all, he's been attending this school for a year. I've seen him around town, or in the halls, and we've always exchanged awkward but friendly glances. But I never got to know Jun. I never considered him a friend, by any means. Sure, he was kind, but I just didn't know him well enough to call him one of my buddies.

But if these feelings for Jun are romantic, I know I need to shut them down immediately.

I am not lovable, by any means. My belly is too fat and my limbs are too lanky. My eyes are too dark and sunken. My lips are too thin and dry. My hair is too greasy and messy. My personality is too boisterous. My interests are too peculiar.

God, who would want to date an ugly kid with a douchebag father and weird passions?

Besides, I don't deserve someone as beautiful, inside and out, as Wen Junhui.

"Hey, Minghao," Jun says as we begin to pack up, the clock signalling the end of class. "Are you busy today?"

I jam my binder into my messy backpack. "I'm going on a run after school, but otherwise, no. Why?"

"Oh," he smiles lightly. "I was wondering if you wanted to come to my house and work on this project?"

For some reason, the idea of going to Jun's house sent unnecessary shivers down my spine. A weird tingly sensation that I shouldn't feel if I'm just his friend, and nothing more.

That's all we are, right?

"Sure," I say excitedly, trying to keep my shit together. "That would be cool."

"Awesome." He loosens his clutch on my palm and slides his textbook into his backpack. I suddenly feel cold now that he isn't holding onto me anymore.

I feel detached, now that my grip on reality has vanished.

"What time do you want me to come over?"

"Whatever's good for you," he replies as he zips up his bag. "How about four?"

I'd get home at around three ten, and my run would be finished by three fifty. "Depends. Where's your house?"

He gives me his address, and as it turns out, it's only about a mile away from my place. Roughly twenty minutes. Which would make me about ten to fifteen minutes late if my schedule went accordingly.

If I miss my run, I'll burn one hundred calories less than my daily goal. One hundred calories I'll have to make up somehow.

"I can just walk straight to your place," I beam.

I'll have to do a lot of fidgeting today. And an extra long run before I go to bed. Rather than three moderate jogs, in the morning, afternoon and evening, I'll do one big one tonight to replace my missed run after school.

"Oh, sweet!" Jun shoulders his backpack, and smiles sweetly. Like sugar and spice and everything nice. "I'll see you at lunch."

"You too." He gives me one more expression of felicity before departing the classroom as the bell officially dismisses us.

Leaving me feeling all flustered and soft, with a ridiculously huge grin on my face.

***

"I didn't know that you and Jun are together."

I'm sitting at lunch, surrounded by noise, but with my best friends.

"What?" I laugh nervously.

"Wait," Mingyu says, waving his hand. "You guys aren't dating?"

"No!" I shriek.

"Really?" Dino asks incredulously. "It looks like it."

"How? Is it because of the hand holding?" I sigh, rubbing my temple with my fingers.

"Yeah," Joshua admits. "It looks pretty boyfriendy, I guess."

I sigh, crossing my arms and pressing my face to the lunch table. "It isn't like that at all."

"Oh," Mingyu blushes. "Sorry. But if it isn't a relationship, you might want to hold back with that stuff. People are pretty sure you guys are a thing."

"Shit," I grumble. "They don't even know I'm bi!" I say that last part much quieter, hushed and inconspicuous in the loud crowd.

"True," Joshua nods. "But holding hands is always a good indicator that there is something going on."

I look up, feeling a bit hopeful. "Really?"

"Well, yeah," Dino shrugs, shoveling noodles into his mouth. "Have you ever seen two people cuddle and hold hands when they aren't dating?"

"Of course," I scoff. "Family members and close friends."

"Well, Jun isn't a relative," Mingyu says cautiously. "Do you consider him a close friend?"  
Honestly, I don't know what Jun is to me anymore.

I lower my gaze. "I don't know."

"Oh my god," Joshua beams, his eyes crinkling in a joyous expression. "You like him!"

"Wha-"

"It all makes sense!" Dino claps his hands, looking absolutely ecstatic. "I knew there was something going on between you two!"

"No, no," I stop them from prematurely celebrating. "I don't- I think- Okay, I'm not sure. But please don't say anything to anyone else. Because I'm still figuring it out."

"We won't," Mingyu assures me. The older boy's eyes flicker towards something behind me. "Hey, here he comes!"

"Shit," I hiss, rapidly finding myself slicking my hair back, fluffing it up so it looks purposely messy but also stylish, adjusting my clothes so I look casual but hip. "Do I look okay?"

Dino resists laughter as he nods, biting his knuckles as Jun sits down next to me.

"Hi," he greets me, holding his lunch.

"Hey," I answer coolly, attempting to work a lopsided grin.

"No lunch?" Jun inquires.

I shake my head. "Not hungry." I lie, patting my tummy.

"Hang on," he interrupts. "You eat lunch when you get home, right?"

"Yeah," I answer, a bit puzzled.

"And you're going to my house after school."

"Yes." I can feel Joshua, Dino and Mingyu giving me excited looks.

"In that case," Jun says worriedly, "you won't be able to get lunch at home."

"It's fine," I assure him. "I can skip a meal."

"No, you aren't skipping a meal," Jun scolds. "I can take you to lunch when school is over."

"Jun-"

"Now," Dino butts in. "My Mandarin may be elementary, but did I hear something about you and Jun having lunch after school?"

Damn you, Dino.

"That's a great idea!" Mingyu butts in. I look over at my friend, trying to hide my ever growing blush. "You guys could work on the project, bond over burgers. Get to know each other."

Fuck you, I mouth furiously.

"Yeah," Joshua grins, propping up his chin with his palm. "You should totally do it."

I glance at Jun, who stares at me questioningly. "They're supportive of us getting lunch, so I guess I have to."

"Cool!" Jun beams. "Where do you want to go? I don't have much money on me, so, sorry." A red hue manifests on his face, sweeter than sweet.

"I'm okay with, like, Subway or something," I shrug. The nearest Subway was about a mile away, but it was much better than the alternative that was just around the block, McDonald's. The food was okay, but I was worried about calories. Sugar. Fat. Carbs.

Arguably the healthiest option on a McDonald's menu still supplied three hundred and fifty calories. Which would completely ruin the purpose of exercising all day, because I'd be eating all of those calories back. Plus, I'd eat so much in such a short period of time. I'd surely get ill again. And I'd gain. I'd gain a lot.

One serving of it held one hundred and ten milligrams of cholesterol, four and a half grams of saturated fat, and over one thousand milligrams of sodium. All of which are linked to cancer, heart disease, and obesity. I don't want to end up like that. I can't.

My calorie counter is wailing with woe, red sirens flashing everywhere. My pulse races like a black stallion.

I grab Jun's hand, lacing our fingers together. My heart begins to slow, my anxiety subsiding.

"Sounds good," he grins. "You want to meet me in the front when school ends?"

I nod, so grateful for his comfort, for him.

"It's a date!" The boy cheers. Heat rises to my face, and I smile widely. Maybe he meant to say date as in boyfriends, or date as in male acquaintances. Either way, I liked the way it sounded.

I'd like to hear it more often.


	9. 9

"Minghao, he definitely likes you."

Joshua scrolls through his phone as he speaks. We're both eagerly waiting for the bell to ring, dismissing us from the last class of the day, English.

"Are you sure?" I ask anxiously, picking at my brittle nails. They've gotten a lot more flaky and fragile after I started dieting. I'm assuming that it has to do with my weight loss. Sometimes, they really pissed me off, but hey, beauty hurts.

"I'm, like, ninety percent sure," he answers. "Hey, we only have pages one hundred and four through one hundred and six as homework, right?"

"Yeah," I reply, a bit annoyed. "Why are you even taking English? It's practically your native language."

"It's an easy class," he shrugs. "Plus, I have to get those foreign language credits somehow."

"You could've taken Mandarin," I suggest. "I could help you."

"Sure," he sneers, "I'll eavesdrop on your conversations with Junny Bunny."

"Jesus," I snort at the nickname. "But no, do you think he likes me?"

"Asking someone on a date is a fairly good indicator that they have romantic feelings for you," Joshua smiles. "Relax. Do you want it to develop into a relationship?"

I curl my lips, nervously looking around at my other classmates. "I mean," I whisper. "If it did, I wouldn't be disappointed, you know."

"Okay," Joshua says encouragingly. "And you feel the same way about him, right?"

"I-I think so," I stutter. "I feel all weird and tingly around him. I feel things that I wouldn't feel if I was with you, or Dino, or Mingyu, you know?"

Joshua nods slowly, turning off his phone and tucking it away in his jacket pocket. "I think you like him," he admits. "But you know yourself better than me. So it's all up to you."

"I know," I sigh.

A crisp ring emanates throughout the school, and students begin to flood the hallways. Joshua and I both step towards the entrance to our classroom.

"Go get 'em, tiger," he winks, before embracing the wave of pupils and heading in the opposite direction.

I take a deep breath, and merge into the crowd, moving quickly towards the front of the school. Where Jun and I had arranged to meet.

As I shuffle through the crowd, I pull out my phone and shoot off a text to Jun via Snapchat.

Me: almost there <3

The heart may have been a bit ballsy, but honestly, we were about to go on a date, so why not?

Jun is typing...

Jun: k

Me: just k? :(

Jun: i am eagerly waiting for your arrival

Jun: better??

Me: low key creepy lmaooo

Jun: lol

Jun was definitely more of a face to face kind of guy, rather than communicating through text.

Once I step outside, I almost immediately see Jun. He's facing his phone, lips pursed.

I creep up behind him, and grab his shoulders.

"Boo!"

He jumps, and snaps his head towards me. Fear flashes through his eyes before he realizes who it is, and his now parted lips give way to an enormous smile.

"Hi!"

"Hey," I smirk, linking my hands around his neck and giving him a huge hug. "You ready to go?"  
Jun pulls away. "Ready when you are."

"Okay, let's go," I grin.

We begin our trek to Subway, wading through the after school mob. The streets are fairly crowded, but once we put enough distance between the high school and us, the amount of people dissipate.

"What are you gonna get?" I ask him as we walk.

"A sub," he sneers.

"What kind of sub?"

"Probably just my regular one. Six inches-"

I shoot him a suggestive look, and he rolls his eyes.

"What, you want me to get a footlong?"

"Good luck finding one," I giggle.

"Anyways," he moves on quickly. "Six inch black forest ham, with Italian bread and American cheese. Then I'll put some dank lettuce, olives, pickles, mayonnaise and mustard on that hoe."

"Neato," I laugh, mentally running the amount of calories probably in that thing. The mayonnaise definitely added some fat to the sandwich, and although the pickles and mustard were fairly healthy, zero calorie options, they were loaded with salt. In fact, Jun's sub probably had at least half of his daily allowance of sodium.

How can he even eat that without having a full blown anxiety attack? How can he consume so much salt without every known medical condition relating to sodium running through his head? How can he live so freely without worrying every second about his calorie intake?

"What about you?" Jun inquires.

"Not sure," I answer truthfully. I take out my phone and access the Subway website, searching for the items with the lowest amount of calories. "Hmm, probably the chicken tortilla soup."

"Soup? Minghao, it's Subway. Get yourself a sandwich!"

I shake my head, smiling. "Nah. I'm in a soup mood anyways." Which is a lie. I just know that the chicken tortilla soup only has about one hundred and ten calories, and hardly any fat, cholesterol, or carbs. The sodium level was a bit high, however.

I run through everything I've eaten today. I had a serving of coconut Greek yogurt this morning, which was one hundred and fifty calories. Fairly healthy, too. The only worrying thing in that meal was the amount of sugar. Sixteen whole grams.

So, I was planning on not eating lunch at all. Because of how much sugar was in the yogurt. But the chicken tortilla soup only had three more grams. So, I wasn't too worried.

What would I eat for dinner? Mom usually came home late, and Dad was either working, or at the bar. So I'm usually on my own for the final meal of the day. Honestly, I sometimes don't even eat anything. But I usually just make some rice. If my hunger gets the best of me, I might add some ground up beef to the mix.

"Okay," Jun says uncertainly as the familiar restaurant appears in front of us. The door chimes as we enter, and a girl about our age looks up from the counter.

"Welcome to Subway," she beams. "How can I help you?"

"Minghao?" Jun turns to me expectantly.

"Chicken tortilla soup," I say wearily.

"Alright, and you?" The girl faces Jun.

"Six inch sub," he professes. "With white bread, ham, and American cheese." His Korean is actually really spot on today. In fact, I can barely notice his accent.

"M'kay," she says, concentrating on the task at hand. However, despite her professional attitude, I find her eyes darting between us a lot. Particularly to Jun. "Toasted?"

"No thanks," Jun answers. She moves on to the next station, and her blue eyes catch his again. She smiles at him, and he gives her an awkward grin in return.

Is there something in Jun's teeth or what?

"Okay," she murmurs. "Any toppings?"  
"Yeah," Jun nods, leaning towards the glass and peering at the selection. "Lettuce, olive and pickles, please."

The girl grants his requests, efficiently applying the various toppings onto his sandwich. And yet again, she's watching Jun carefully as he stares at her gloved hands.

"Any sauce?"

"Mayonnaise," he answers, and I watch as a scarlet color blossoms on her face as the stuff is poured onto the white bread. "And mustard."

"Okay," she nods, wrapping the sandwich. Then, she looks at me, and the merry expression in her eyes is replaced with something else. Something that almost resembles a sense of loathing. "And you want soup?"

"Yes," I nod. "Chicken tortilla."

She huffs. "Okay." The girl vanishes, heading to a mystery room. Presumably to get my soup.

"Jun?"  
He turns to me. "Yeah?"

"Open your mouth."

He frowns. "What?"

"Just do it."

The boy tilts his head in confusion, before parting his lips and showing off his teeth. I scrutinize them closely, stepping closer to him and scanning the interior of his mouth.   
"Okay, you're good." He seals his lips, before immediately interrogating me.

"What was that about?"

"I thought there was something in your teeth," I reply innocently. "Because," I lower my voice, "that girl is looking at you a lot."

He blushes, curling his lip and staring at his shoelaces. "I wonder if she's trying to flirt or something."

"Maybe."

"Alright," I hear the girl say snappily. I turn and she is glaring at me, holding out a to go container, a napkin, and a plastic spoon. "It's hot, so be careful."

I grasp the styrofoam bowl. "Thank you."

"Yep," she pops the p. Then, the girl faces Jun with a saccharine expression, her irises glimmering as she bags his lunch. "Here's your sandwich!"

Jun takes the bag holding his food, and I watch as her fingers graze his. He quickly moves away, reaching for his wallet.

"Oh, it's on the house," she says, her eyes twinkling.

"You sure?"  
"Of course!"

"Well, thank you," he says kindly. "Minghao, are you ready to go?"

"I think so-"

"Wait," she waves her hands in frustration. I face the girl. "Yours isn't free."

I feel my lips part a bit, my eyebrows furrowing. "Huh?"

She focuses on the cash register, tapping the machine. "That'll be two ninety three."

"Hang on," Jun stops the girl. "Why isn't his free?"

"Well, you two are separate orders, correct?" She flashes Jun another charming smile, and I feel something malicious brew in my gut. Not anxiety, not nausea.

Rage.

"No," he snarls, scooting towards me. Our hands brush, and I immediately find myself clutching his. I'm not necessarily feeling too nervous at the moment, so I'm a bit unsure as to why I decided to make contact with Jun. Regardless, it feels nice. "We're together, thank you very much."

Her eyes widen, before she purses her lips and sighs loudly.

"Alright, you mind if I charge you as well?"

"It would be my pleasure," he says evenly. She punches a few numbers onto the screen.

"Nine seventy."

Jun fishes out a ten and hands her the bill. The girl places the cash in the register and drops thirty cents in his hand.

It's funny how after Jun told her about us, she avoided his skin as if he had the plague.

He jams the change into his pocket and turns to the door, holding his sandwich in one hand and grasping my palm in his other.

"What," the girl growls. "No tip?"

Jun swivels his head around as we stand in front of the door. "Please," he scoffs, suggestively glancing downstairs, "If you weren't such a fucking bitch, maybe you would've gotten the whole package."

And with that, we depart the Subway.


	10. 10

"You know," Jun hisses as we trudge through town, "people like that piss me off."

I hold onto my soup container as we walk, feeling the heat from the broth warm my frigid fingers. Jun still hasn't let go of my hand.   
I don't mind at all.

"Trust me," I sigh. "They piss me off as well."

"Like, ugh," he grumbles. "I figured she was hitting on me or something, and I was flattered that she found me attractive, I guess. But don't fucking exclude the person I'm with, you know! Plus, the second I said we were a thing, she was like oh hell no! What the actual fuck?"

"Wait," I stop him. "Are we a thing?"

Jun stops, and turns in my direction, so we're facing each other. "Do you want to be a thing?"

I can't tell if he's being serious or not.

I feel awkward.

He quickly lets go of my hand, and faces the horizon.

We continue to his house in silence.

I'm not sure what's going through his head right now.

But the only thing going through mine is self hating words that claw at what little dignity I still possess. Telling me how I fucked it up. How I fuck everything up.

Again and again and again.

Needless to say, it's a tense journey to the Wen home.

"Here we are," he says dully, fishing a key out of his pocket.

We're approaching an apartment complex, with monotone colors and drab decor. Regardless, it's still cozy.

I approach the staircase with Jun, and as we climb the steps, I feel my breathing increase. It's like I'm carrying a bag of boulders as I walk.

"You good?" Jun inquires when we reach the second floor. I nod, practically out of breath.

What was that all about?

Jun leads me down the hall and we stop in front of a beige door. He inserts the key into the lock, twists, and opens the door.

"After you."

I thank him and step inside his home.

The first thing I notice about his house is how small it is. There's a couch, a small table and a television in the corner of the large room, and a kitchen tucked away in the back. Farther to the right is a hallway, adorned with three visible doors. My left holds a room with the door ajar. A bathroom.

Immediately, a young boy toddles towards me, arms waving, giggling as he waddles towards me.

"Jun Jun?"

"No," I reply in Mandarin to who I assume is Jun's little brother. "I'm his friend."

"Why are you so skinny?"

"Yang Yang," Jun gasps, hurrying towards me and the younger boy. He places his sub on the couch adjacent to us and scoops up his brother. "Come on, it's nap time."

"Why is he a skeleton?"

"He is not a skeleton, his name is Minghao," Jun huffs. "I'll be right back," he says to me with a tired smile. My friend disappears around the corner, vanishing in the long hallway.

An older woman moves past him, murmuring something before her eyes stray to mine. I smile respectfully.

"Hi," I introduce myself, ignoring Yang Yang's overwhelming curiosity. "I'm Jun's friend, Minghao."

The woman nods, stepping towards me. "I'm Jun's mother."

"It's wonderful to meet you," I say politely.

"Likewise," she mumbles. She sounds exhausted. "You are Chinese?"

"Yes," I concede. "I was born in Haicheng, and I moved to Korea when I was twelve."

"Ah," she muses. "We're from Shenzhen."

"The big city," I grin. She nods, her eyes crinkling in a light smile.

"Okay," Jun says, darting towards us. "Minghao, I am so sorry my brother said that."

"No," I assure him. "It's fine."

"It isn't," he grumbles. "He needs to keep his damn mouth shut."

"Jun," his mom scolds. She faces me again, this time, donning a warm smile. "We're very privileged to have you in our abode. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me."

"Thank you," I smile.

"You want to study in my room or out here?" Jun asks me, gesturing to the couch.

"Whatever you're comfortable with," I reply. "It's your house."

"And you're my guest," he retorts.

I sigh. "Your room is fine."

"Cool," he smiles, heading to the couch and grabbing his Subway bag. "Mom, we'll be in my room."

"Alright," she says warmly. We say goodbye to her again and dash to his chambers, across the living room and the first door on the right.

Jun's room is fairly messy, but not, like, hoarder level. There's some books and dirty clothes thrown around, and his bed has been left unmade, but otherwise it's somewhat clean.   
The resemblance it bears to my own bedroom is striking, in fact.

"Well," he says, letting the door swing shut behind us, "this is my room."

"Reminds me of mine," I say.

"How so?"

"Dunno," I shrug. "It just does."

"Oh," Jun simpers, shrugging off his backpack and bending over to grab his things.

Jun has a really nice ass.

I set down my container of soup and do the same, extracting my binder from the depths of my backpack.

"So," he says. I hear the sound of plastic and paper crinkling, and I turn to see Jun holding his Subway sandwich. "I think we should just eat before we start working."  
"I agree." Even though my appetite was practically non existent at this point.

Being alone with Jun, in his room, made me nervous. In a good way, I guess. But it still stole my feelings of hunger.

However, being with Jun, period, also calmed me. So really, the entire situation I was in is quite oxymoronic.

I sit on the floor, criss cross applesauce, and Jun seats himself across from me in the same way. Opening up the container, I shakily dip my spoon into the broth and sip from it delicately.

It tasted alright, I guess. It was a bit lukewarm, because it had taken a bit to get to Jun's home, but otherwise, it wasn't too bad.

"How's your food?" I ask him.  
"Good," he answers. "You?"

"Good."

"Good," he beams. "I'm sorry that girl was such a bitch."

"I am too," I smirk. "But it's fine. I've dealt with worse."

"Also," he adds. "I'm sorry my brother is so curious. It was really rude of him to say that."

"No," I shrug. "It's okay."

It almost surprised me in a way that he called me skinny.

Couldn't he see the rolls of fat that clung to my body like glue sticks to paper?

"It isn't," Jun insists. "Minghao, is it okay if I ask you something?"  
"Depends," I reply. "I might not answer if it's about my weight."

"In that case," Jun murmurs, "I won't ask."

Oh.

"I'm sorry," I say softly.

"Don't be," Jun replies quickly. "It was rude of me to pry."

The soup has lost its taste by now. I've probably eaten around fifty calories. Which is alright. A bit under my goal when it comes to meals, but I already had a lot of sugar this morning. So maybe it was best that I cut back a bit.

I don't want to put on any unnecessary pounds.

"Do you mind if I use the bathroom?" I ask him.

"Not at all," he assures me. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No," I answer truthfully. "I just need to pee."

"Oh," he blushes. "Okay. It's the door on the left from when you come in. Did you see it?"  
"Yeah. Thank you." I get up, carrying my soup to the kitchen as I leave. Jun's mom buzzes around the kitchen, preparing dinner, it looks like.

"Nǐ hǎo, Minghao," she chuckles. "That has a nice ring to it. Do you mind if I use that?"

"Not at all," I smirk. "I'm just gonna toss this out real quick." I lift up the half eaten bowl of soup.

"Trash can is right there," she points to an aluminum container, the black plastic bag peeking out of the bin.

"Thank you." I dump it into the garbage. I then continue to the bathroom, and lock the door behind me.

Honestly, I don't need to use the bathroom. I don't even feel all too ill.

Instead, I need to check the mirror again.

Am I really that skinny?

I mean, I'm pretty bony. And my cheeks are fairly hollow. But I've always been a bit slimmer than others.

Still, is this healthy? Is a BMI of 16.5 too unhealthy, or am I just ahead of the game?

I don't want to be overweight.

No one finds beauty in overweight people, right?

And no one has ever found me to be attractive, so I must be fat. I must be too big. There are a few parts of me that aren't as skinny. Those are the parts I want to hack off with a kitchen knife.

I'm ugly and I'm fat.

And no one can convince me otherwise.

But also, was Jun starting to see something in me? Did this mean that maybe I'm not too horrific?

I glance over at the toilet, and next to the porcelain throne is a scale.

Moving towards the familiar device, I shakily undress, and gingerly step onto the scale.

The numbers blink for a few seconds, before registering a weight of one hundred and ten pounds.

I've lost five pounds in just over twenty four hours.

And then, that really sets in.

I lost five pounds in one day.

Horror. Panic. Trepidation. Terror.

Five whole pounds.

I've never lost so much weight so quickly. The last time I dropped five pounds, it took me a week.

Oh my God.

I thought I was maybe doing a bit better. Because I had the unprecedented meal yesterday at lunch. Even though I threw it back up, I figured that my body absorbed something from it.

I run calculations through my head, and realize that my BMI is now 15.8. I lost a seventh of one whole point on the Body Mass Index scale.

I'm getting farther away from being obese.

But I'm getting closer to what most people would call malnourished.

And that scares the living shit out of me.


	11. 11

"Why the fuck did you not text me where you were?"

I lay on the couch, my father standing over me like ominous thunder clouds.

"I didn't think you'd really care where I was," I answer truthfully.

"Jesus," he sighs, running a hand through his unwashed hair. "You're a goddamn idiot."

"The only reason why you were worried is because you know Mom would leave your ass if you lost me," I sneer.

My father's eyes widen, and he kneels down next to me, a devilish grin on his face. His breath reeks of whiskey.

"You're lucky I'm not dumb enough to beat the ever loving shit out of you," he growls. He focuses on my skinny arms. "Shit. Since when did you decide that starving yourself is a good idea?"  
"You know," I snarl, sitting up, "I'm not starving myself."

"Bummer," he smirks. "If you were, maybe you'd die quicker."

The words puncture my lungs, and I suddenly feel like I can't breathe. I lower my gaze, staring at my jeans.

"I'm going to the bar." He stands up and stomps past me, slamming the front door shut on his way out. The house rattles as the door crashes on its hinges.

I glance at the trembling clock on the wall. It's only five thirty.

My stomach rumbles in protest, begging for nourishment.

 _No,_ I tell myself.  _You don't deserve it._

My father's words echo in my mind again, as another growl erupts from my gut.

I distract myself by stumbling to the dishwasher, opening the machine and shakily placing the silverware and plates away.

As I do my chores, I feel the energy leave my body. I feel like I've run a mile. Like I'm in need of a nap. Which is odd, because I got plenty of sleep last night.

My fingers slip, and a glass comes crashing down, shattering on the counter.

"Son of a bitch," I hiss, stepping away from the sharp mess. None of the materials hit my skin. I'm not cut.

Sighing, I hobble to the closet, retrieving a dustpan and a broom. I then make my way back to the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of the cup and pouring it into the garbage can.

I suddenly remember my walk with Jun, and how I struggled with climbing the stairs to his apartment.

_What was wrong with me? Am I sick or something?_

Shivering, I hobble to the bathroom, and take my temperature. When the thermometer begins to beep under my tongue, I remove the device and read the results.

98.2 degrees Fahrenheit.

So I'm not sick. At least, I'm not running a fever.

I pull out my phone, and google  _am i sick?_

After following a series of links, I find a website where I can enter my symptoms and receive results. I answer the preliminary questions first, asking me my gender, age, and current medications.

_Male. 17. None._

It asks for my main symptom. I consider what I'm feeling, and type in  _muscle weakness._

Then, I'm suggested many other ailments, many of which do not match how I feel. But a few stick out.

_Low weight._

_Excessive exercise._

_Chills._

_Fatigue._

_Anxiety._

_Bad self image._

_Dizziness._

_Brittle hair and nails._

Finally, when I've entered everything I can think of, I hit  _continue._

I hum lightly as the webpage loads my results, and then, the potential diagnoses appear.

Several illnesses show up, but only one really catches my eye. The first suggestion.

_Anorexia nervosa -_ _high possibility_

"No," I murmur.

I'm not anorexic.

I knew what anorexia was. It's when you eat almost nothing and exercise too much.

I like exercise. It's fun. It raises my adrenaline levels. It gives me something to do. It burns calories. It helps me lose weight. It makes me look skinnier.

Alright, so maybe I do it a tiny bit to lose weight. But that's just an additional advantage to doing what I love, right? It's like dancing. You love it, and it's exercise. Just because you do it a lot doesn't mean you have a problem.

Then, eating.

I definitely eat less than everyone else. But right now, I'm just dieting. I don't want to gain too much weight. So, I'm just staying a bit ahead of the game.

A normal BMI is 18.5 to 24.9. But normal is just one step away from overweight. So, I'm chilling out in the underweight zone. 15.8 is a BMI that may be a bit lower than normal, but it does mean that I'm nowhere close to being overweight.

I'm fine, right?

I glance over at the scale in my bathroom. It can't hurt to weigh myself again.

Taking off my clothes, just to get the most accurate reading, I stand on the scale.

A series of numbers flash across the digital display, before conveying a final reading of one hundred and nine point five pounds.

A BMI of 15.7.

Okay. I'm almost three points below the low end of the normal range. But I'm just maintaining a weight that prevents obesity.

Which should be a good thing.

After redressing, I reluctantly open my phone again, scrolling through the symptoms of anorexia nervosa, even though I'm already semi familiar with the disorder.

_Dry and brittle nails._

_Dramatic weight loss._

_Feeling cold all the time._

_Dizziness._

_Eating rituals, such as picking at food or only consuming certain foods._

_Maintains a strict exercise regimen, despite weather, illness, or injury._

_Concern about eating in public._

_Making frequent comments about being fat despite underweight statistics._

_Dressing in layers to stay warm and/or hide weight loss._

I pick at my jacket, which hides a sweater, which hides an undershirt.

I'm fine.

I have to be.

And as I come to this conclusion, I take a step towards the exit to the bathroom and promptly collapse onto the cool tile floor.


	12. 12

My head rests on the icy ground, cheek pressed against the slick tiles.

What even happened? It was as if my legs gave out beneath me. Or something kicked at my feet and I lost my footing.

The beige walls swirl around me as I press my sweaty palms to the floor, attempting to push myself upright. Groaning, I feel my hands slip and I crash to the ground once more.

Ink seeps into the corners of my vision as I breathe heavily, clawing at my phone. Would this constitute an emergency?

No. There was no way I was calling for help. It'd unlock a whole new series of issues.

I can figure this out by myself.

So, I just lay there for a bit.

Jesus, what am I going to do?

I look at the towel rack above me. If I can reach it, maybe I can pull myself up.

However, I also ran the risk of ripping the bars out from the wall. Hell, it'd probably break under my weight.

You see? That's how fat I am.

I'd probably snap those motherfuckers and end up back at square one.

"Goddammit," I grunt as I grasp for the rack. Placing some weight on the wall and some on the metal bars, I gradually rise.

The bars do not break.

I hug the plaster wall, using it to catch my breath. A bead of sweat rolls down my neck as I pant.

This shit didn't happen to a seventeen year old boy. It happens to seventy year old men.

I wasn't supposed to be having a Life Alert episode when I was just shy of turning eighteen.

Ignoring the panic that threatened to pull me back to the tiles, I decide to forget about the dishes. I don't want to break any more.

But also, my mom was going to be coming home from a long day of work. And I didn't want her to have to do them.

I haven't really done anything today. And she's worked her ass off.

Biting my lip, I feebly hurry back to the kitchen, and do my best to put away the rest of the dishes. Somehow, I'm able to do it without destroying anything.

Then, I stumble to my bedroom, and throw myself onto my bed, eyelids fluttering.

I'm so tired.

My phone buzzes next to me, and I wearily check my notifications to see a text from Mingyu lighting up my inbox.

Mingyu: how'd it go??

Me: good ig

Mingyu: give me the deets

Me: we got subway and started the project lol

Mingyu: thats all? ;)

Me: yes

Mingyu: o rip

Me: i wasnt expecting anything other than that lmaooo

Maybe that last text was a bit of a lie.

Now that I've had some time to think, I've realized that Jun probably doesn't like me in that way. He's just a friend.

Which is fine.

It should be fine.

So why does it hurt when I imagine this scenario?

I think back to all of the times we held hands. Cuddled. Exchanged cheeky glances.

All for nothing?

"Oh no," I murmur to myself, raising my hands and pressing them to my face.

I'm in love with Wen Junhui.

That can't be. I'm too young to know what that could ever feel like. I haven't even graduated high school yet, for God's sake.

It's a petty crush.

Oh God, I'm crushing on Wen Junhui.

Why am I like this? Developing feelings for people who will never reciprocate them?

I laugh to myself bitterly.

I really fucking hate myself.

The sound of a lock clicking snaps me out of my daze, and I hear the front door swing open. Was it already six thirty?

How long did it take me to do the dishes?

How long have I been laying here?

How long was I on the bathroom floor?

"Minghao?"

"Hi, Mom," I wearily shout from my room.

I hear her place her things on the kitchen counter, and then her high heels click on the hardwood floor as she enters my bedroom.

"Hey," she smiles, walking to my side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I answer, "just tired."

"Okay," she says, sounding concerned. "How was school?"

"Good." I sit up, tucked in the corner where my mattress met the walls. "I went to a friend's house and we worked on a school project, then Dad told me to get my ass home."

"Oh," she nods encouragingly. "Who was it?"

"My new table partner in Ancient History, Jun," I reply.

"Is he a good boy?" My mother has always been incredibly protective of me. So when she hears that I have gone to a friend's house, she's always extremely curious about who they are.

I love my mom. And that isn't sarcasm.

"Yes, Mom," I assure her. "He's really nice, and smart, and he's Chinese, so we have that in common."

"Oh, interesting," she smiles. "Was he born here?"

"No," I shake my head. "I'm pretty sure he grew up in Shenzhen."

"Cool," she grins. That's another thing I love about my mom. She listens. She doesn't just nod and acknowledge your presence half heartedly. She really listens, and engages in your conversation.

Unlike her significant other.

"Yeah."

He is pretty cool.

"So," she begins, a sly smile on her face, "is he cute?"  
"Oh my God, Mom!" I can already feel my blush creeping up my neck, and I curl my lip to suppress my smile.

"I'm just asking!" Mom whines. "Do you have a picture of him?"

"No, I don't," I laugh. "Maybe he has something on his Snapchat story." I open up my phone and tap on the Snapchat icon, accessing his newest updates.

The only thing is from a few hours ago, at around one. Before Subway, but after lunch. A simple selfie in what looks like Calculus, with a caption of several emojis falling asleep.

I show my mom the picture.

"Ooh," she croons. "He is cute!"

"Mom!"

"Just saying," she shrugs. "Have you thought about asking him out?"

"No, Mom," I sigh. "I mean, we got lunch today, but our relationship is strictly platonic, and-"  
"Aw! Where did you guys go!"

"Oh, Jesus Christ," I rub my temple.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," she smirks, standing up. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"No," I lie. "I already had lunch with him, remember?"

"I know," she shrugs. "I just thought you might be hungry again."  
"I'm okay," I assure my mother. "Thank you."

"Of course, sweetie." She kisses my forehead, before departing my bedroom. I shake my head, smiling.

She was a wonderful woman.

A wonderful woman who didn't deserve my douchebag of a dad.

If only we could just get out of here. She's considered it, but every time, he pulls something and begs her to stay. And she loves him, you see. He's a good man!

Her excuses weigh as much as feathers in my eyes.

I still hate him.


	13. 13

"Oh my God, dude, guess what?" Joshua prods as we walk through the school corridors.

"What?"  
"I'm taking Jennie to junior prom," he smirks as the two of us step into first period.

"Shit," I sigh. "Junior prom is already coming up?"  
"Yeah," he grins. "May twentieth! Three months!"

"There's three months until the goddamn dance, and you've already asked her?"

"Yep!" Joshua's eyes flicker towards Jun, who's sitting at our desk. Alone, but occupied by his phone. "I know who _you_ should ask."

"No," I hiss. "I doubt he even-"

"We've already gone over this," Joshua assures me silently. "You should just ask him, Minghao. There's only one way to find out if he likes you back, and that's to act on your feelings."

I curl my lip as I stare at my desk partner, and his chestnut hair, and his chocolate eyes, and his flawless skin, and his innocent little cheeks that are so squishable and oh dear Christ, he is  _such_  a blessing to humankind.

But it's not his looks that attract me to him. It's his character. How timid he seems, before showing a playful and childlike personality. Always caring about others. But when the situation calls for it, he can don a serious demeanor and unlock an inner being of sass, protectiveness, and selflessness.

He's beautiful in every way.

I nod, still unsure. "I'll ask him eventually."

"Good," Joshua claps me on my bony shoulders, and I instinctively move way, flinching. He frowns when I wince at his touch.

I already know what he's going to ask.

"Sorry," I blush, before hurrying to my seat before he can ask me if I had eaten anything.

The thing is, I just can't eat now. After falling yesterday, my appetite has been somewhat dulled. It's not that I'm not hungry. I think it could be that I'm just so hungry, I constantly feel like shit.

Regardless, I'm not eating. So I'm losing weight.

That's a good thing.

It should be a good thing.

I sit next to Jun, and the boy grins widely when I appear.

"Hi," he beams. "I got a basic layout for the Prezi."

"Really? Ah, thank you so much, Jun," I say gratefully. And I mean it.

"Sure thing," he smiles. "I brought my laptop today, so hopefully, we can work on it during class. If Mr. Lee lets us."

"Perfect."

The bell tolls, and Mr. Lee wearily stands, leaning against his desk.

"Okay," he says, eyeing all of us. "We're just working on the project today. If you want to go to the library to work, that's fine, but if you want to stay here, that's fine as well."

Vernon raises his hand, one occupied by a MacBook. "Can we use our own laptops to work in here?"

"Fine with me." he answers, "as long as you're using it only to work."

Jun and I exchange giddy grins.

"Can we listen to music?" Wonwoo inquires.

"Yes, as long as it isn't a distraction."

Jun quickly takes out his computer, opening up the device and typing at the speed of light to access Prezi.

"Alright," he says excitedly. "This is sort of what I had in mind."

The first slide shows an aesthetically pleasing background of various sarcophagi and sand dunes, along with wispy words,  _Egyptian Burial Practices,_ sprawling across the screen in Chinese, followed by our names in the same language.

"I figured you could help me with translating it," he blushes.

"It looks great," I compliment the older boy.

"Thank you!"

"Of course," I reply warmly, staring at Jun kindly.

"Can we listen to music?" Jun asks, focusing on my phone in my pocket, my earbuds dangling loosely.

"Sure. Are your headphones I got you working okay?"

He nods. "Yeah. You just have a really good playlist."

"Oh, thanks," I smirk, grabbing my cell phone and untangling my headphones. "I can send it to you if you want."  
"Nah," he waves his hand as I give him an earbud. "It's fine."

"Okay," I smirk, before turning on the music.

As the sounds of Franz Liszt begin to serenade us, I feel a light yet delicate pressure on my shoulder. Warm and safe.

_Jun._

His head rests there as we work. And he doesn't mention my bony figure, or how skinny I am, or how I should eat more.

It's like I'm a normal person to him.

And I wish others treated me like this.

***

"It's like I'm a normal person to him!"

I'm practically overflowing with positive words about Jun as I sit at the dinner table.

"Oh, Minghao," my mother croons, lifting a tin of baked pork chops out of the oven. She sets the steaming cuts on the stovetop. "I'm so happy to hear that."

"It's like," I sigh, trying to express my feelings in a verbal form. "He doesn't care that I have a weird taste in music. In fact, he likes it! And, like, he doesn't really look at me weird because I'm skinny. I'm just like any other person. And I think he likes me back, Mom," I find myself blushing like crazy and letting a crazy smile take over.

"Well," she says, grasping a knife and cutting into the pork. "I'm absolutely thrilled that you've found someone who may want to pursue a relationship with you, Minghao."

"I am too," I admit sheepishly, balling my fists and having a bit of a fanboy attack. "He's so awesome, Mom. Maybe he can come over tomorrow, and we can work on the project! That way, you can meet him! Oh, Mom, can he?"

"Slow down, slow down," she smiles. "That would be great, and I would love to have him. But let's focus on dinner for now, alright?"

"Okay," I giggle. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, honey," Mom assures me as she spoons a serving of pork and rice onto my plate. "Here. Have something to eat. I can hear your stomach growling from over here."

And just like that, my glee vanishes.

Steam rises from the meal, as the wild rice lightly glistens next to the pork, drenched in sauce and mushroom and so many goddamn calories.

Two cups of wild rice has over seven hundred more calories than the same amount of white rice. It's healthier, yes, but there are too many calories. By too many, I mean there are over one thousand, one hundred and forty calories in just two cups of wild rice. That's over two days of calories for me.

I estimated that there was around a fourth of a cup of mushrooms on my plate. Which equated to roughly ten calories. That part calmed me down after realizing the amount of calories in the rice, but then I remember the main part of the meal.

With the pork chops, there had to be about five hundred calories in the cut in front of me. Just the cut. No sauce, no mushrooms, no side.

"Mom," I ask kindly as I begin to slice into the tender meat, "what kind of sauce is this? It smells lovely." I funnel my fear into a warm tone, to convince my mom that I'm not currently about to faint from fright.

"Cream of mushroom," she replies merrily, bustling through the kitchen. Just as I had thought. One cup had one hundred calories. Meaning, this meal had about one thousand, seven hundred and fifty calories. Roughly half a pound of food

If I ate this, I would have to hold off from eating anything for three days to get back to a normal cycle. This exceeded my five hundred calories per day diet by over three hundred and fifty percent.

_Oh my God._

I cut my food into pieces, scattering them around, smashing the small bits of pork. If the rice in front of me was white or brown, I would take a few bites. But because it's wild, which I am not as familiar with, I'm scared to even eat one grain.

I hear the front door slam shut, and I wince as the house shakes.

Dad's home.

"Hey," he says gruffly, sliding his boots off. I can tell by his empty eyes and his gait that he is inebriated.

"Hi," I grumble, stirring my food around. Mixing it together.

"Hi!" my mother beams, setting down her plate of food to kiss my father. He holds out a hand, the base of his palm shoving my mom away. He stumbles towards me, as I silently seethe.

"You sound happy," he sneers, plopping down next to me.

I don a smart ass smile, flashing my teeth at him. "I am, thank you."

His fist crashes into the dinner table, and I jump at the loud noise of dishes clattering.

"You know, Minghao," my father growls, leaning towards me, the stench of alcohol growing with every millimeter of space he closes between us, "I don't like the attitude you've had lately."

My eyes skirt to my mother, who has her lips pursed.  _Drop it_ , she mouths. A pleading look is in her eyes.

Then, my vision is directed to the food in front of me.

And my father sees how scared I am when I see the monumental amount of calories on my porcelain plate.

"Hmm," he beams, sly and sneaky. "Your mother made a wonderful meal for you. Why don't you eat some?"

"I did," I answer shakily, angry at myself for giving away my weakness.

"Doesn't look like it to me," Dad snickers. His fingers reach for my fork. "Eat up, kid."

"I was, before-"

"Before  _what,_  Minghao? Before I came in?"

"Yes-"

"Well," he says coolly, impaling a piece of pork with my fork, "why don't you eat some more?"

I nod slowly, taking the fork and gingerly consuming the meal.

_Calories._

_Fat._

_Carbohydrates._

I swallow the bite, and stare at my father expectantly. He glances at my plate.

"Have some rice too."

He's blackmailing me.

He's figured out my diet by now.

He's going to snitch if I don't eat.

I take a small forkful of the stuff, but then my father shakes his head.

"More, kid."

I do as he says, and raise the metal prongs to my lips. I chew on the rice, knowing damn well how many calories I was absorbing.

I continue to eat, my heart racing, my lungs shriveling up in a panic attack, my brow shining with sweat.

Two hundred calories.

Three hundred.

Four hundred.

Five, six, seven.

"Now, some pork."

I shake my head kindly, lowering my silverware. "I'm getting a bit full, but thank-"

"I'm not giving you an option." He snatches the fork from me and stabs at the meat.

My father raises my silverware, drawing teasing spirals in front of me with the utensil. "Here comes the airplane!"  
And then, I remember Jun, and the memory of him feeding me, and how I got sick. But the memories are replaced by his kind smile, his sweet gaze, his caring personality.

None of these things deserve to be associated with the abomination of a person in front of me.

Before I know it, my hand is on his wrist, and I'm throwing his arm to his side, my fork hitting the ground with a clang.

Silence.

Then, violence.

"You son of a bitch!" His palm crashes into my cheek, and I topple out of my chair, slamming into the hardwood floor. I hear my mother cry out and curses hurled at me in a masculine, gravelly voice. Then, there are hands under my arms, and my mom is lifting me up and helping me to the bathroom, stumbling.

I feel numb.

I know my mom has felt how skinny I am by practically carrying me to the restroom. Away from my father.

She's figured it out.

The door closes behind us, and I stare at my bare feet as she continues to hug me from behind.

"Minghao, step on the scale." Her voice is stern. Terrified.

I obey wearily, finally surrendering myself as I watch my weight appear on the display.

Three ones.

"Oh dear God," I hear her croak as I step back onto the tiles. A horrendous laugh echoes from the rooms ahead of us.

"I'm heading back to the bar!" Dad yells in jubilance. "Wait until my buddies hear my son is an anorexic!"

The last word repeats itself in my mind.

On loop for eternity.

I wrap my arms around my mother's waist and let myself cry into her collarbone, dampening her skin with my tears.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

She says nothing in return.

She just holds me as I sob.


	14. 14

The next day, my father leaves. Where, I don't know. And I frankly don't care.

I don't really care about anything anymore.

I get up in the morning, and the first thing my mother does is measure my height. Five eleven.

I guess I've grown a bit.

Then, she weighs me.

One hundred and six.

"How did you lose five pounds overnight?" she gasps in horror.

I shrug indignantly, my nonchalance hiding the fact that I spent four hours in the bathroom last night, puking and crapping my guts out.

I had taken a tablespoon of laxative powder and dissolved it in water, just to make sure I cleansed my system thoroughly. Part of me was tempted to just take all of the medicine in the cabinets and hopefully die in my sleep. But I didn't have the balls.

So, I stuck with shitting and purging.

That morning, my mother calls the school, and tells them I'm going to be sick, and I can't come in.

"You're staying home today," she says softly, sitting at the foot of my bed. I nod, snuggling up in my covers again and pressing my face to my pillow. Wishing I could just suffocate.

"Minghao," she whispers. I feel her fingers on my ankle, soothingly rubbing circles around the thin skin through my blankets. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I shake my head, hugging my pillow. "I didn't think-no, I don't have a problem, Mom."

"You're one hundred and six pounds, Minghao," my mother rasps. "And, and you're almost six feet tall. You, oh my God." I hear her choke up, and I bite my lip to suppress from crying more.

Never have I cried more than I did that night. I cried buckets, waterfalls,  _oceans,_  even.

And I know I wasn't the only one, because I could hear my mother's wails from her room all night long.

I really broke her.

_I did this to her._

What kind of person am I?

My BMI is now 14.8.

I'm almost fifty pounds below the ideal weight for someone my height and age.

"This is serious, Minghao!" my mother shrieks, fat tears rolling down her full, healthy cheeks. "You could die from this!"

Right now, death seems like an acceptable ending to my dramatic life story.

"I just," I falter, my words muffled by my pillow. "I just don't want to be fat."

"Minghao, honey," my mother sobs, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. "You aren't fat."

"Maybe I'm not," I croak, "but I see myself as fat. I see myself as a fat sack of shit, Mom. I see myself as this ugly ass person who doesn't deserve crap. I see myself as nothing." I raise my head from my pillow, my face blotchy and bleary. "I fucking hate myself."

I watch as my mother places her palm to her mouth, presumably in shock. Her eyes wide, she raises her arms and wraps them around me, laying on the bed next to me.

"I never want you to say those things about yourself," she whispers in my ear. "Because those are all lies."

I don't say anything in return, I just continue to enjoy my mother's presence.

But part of me wishes Jun was here.

***

"Okay," my mom says, walking into my room that evening. "I have dinner for you."

I spent the day sleeping and listening to music, honestly. Both were therapeutic to me.

Both distracted me from what was going on.

My mother kneels in front of my bed, with a small bowl of what looks like soup.

"One hundred calories," she says encouragingly. "We're seeing a doctor tomorrow, but for now, they told me to just give you liquids and low calorie foods."

I nod, shakily grasping the warm vessel. The spoon in the broth rings as it clanks against the porcelain.

I experimentally take a sip. It really doesn't taste like anything, but I know I need it. Still, a nagging feeling tickles the back of my brain as I eat.

_Two calories._

_Eight._

_Fourteen._

_Twenty three._

"How does it taste?" My mother asks as I consume the food.

"Good, I guess," I reply. "What's in it?"  
"Piss."

I choke as my mother smirks a bit. "I'm kidding. It's just beef broth."

"Sweet," I nod as I continue to eat.

Once I've drank about three quarters of the broth, I hand the bowl back to my mom. "Thank you."

She smiles as she takes the nearly empty bowl from me. "You are  _so very_  welcome."

After I hear her place the dishes in the sink, she hurries back to my room. "So," Mom broods, getting on her knees again. "I've scheduled an emergency appointment with the doctors tomorrow, at ten. So you're missing school again. They're going to give us some advice and hopefully hook us up with a therapist to get this under control."

I nod as she speaks. "Okay. What's, uh,  _recovery_  going to look like?" The word tastes venomous on my tongue.

My mom looks down. "Hospital visits," she concedes. "Steadily working on increasing calorie intake. Reducing exercise. Cognitive behavioral therapy." Mom sighs, taking my hand. "It'll be a long, long journey."

I nod, pursing my lips. "Yeah."

"But hey," she says wearily, lightly smiling. "We're gonna get through this. You're my little warrior." She ruffles my hair, and I lightly push her away, giggling.

"Mom, that tickles!"

We both laugh, and for the first time in awhile, I feel happy. Truly happy. Not just short lived or a quick high or something.

It's wholesome.

My phone buzzes, and I glance over at the blinking device.

A call from Jun.

My mom sees the caller ID, and blushes.

"I'll let you take it." She gets up and paces out of my room, shutting the door. I grab my phone and answer.

"Hello?"  
"Oh my God, Minghao, why weren't you at school today? Are you sick? Did something happen? Is everything-"

"Chill out, dude," I smirk, laying back down. "I just felt a bit sick, so I took the day off."  _That's an understatement._

"Oh," he breathes, exhaling. "Okay. You scared me."

"I'm sorry," I sigh. "How was school? What did I miss?"

"It was good," he answers. "In Ancient History, we just worked on the project. My mom helped me translate it, so don't worry about that."

"Okay," I say. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be," he assures me. "Your health is more important. Oh, by the way, are you going to be at school tomorrow?"

I remember the appointment tomorrow, and my mom's words.

_You're missing school again._

"Yeah," I say. "I'll be there."

_I'll make it work._

"Sweet!" I hear a voice in the background, on Jun's side of the conversation. "Coming!" the boy yells. "Sorry, I have to go. My mom needs me. Bye!" I hear him blow a kiss to me over the phone, and my face heats up.

"Bye, babe," I sneer, blowing a kiss in return.

"Bye,  _snookums_." The line dies, and I chuckle to no one in particular.

I know I can't go to school tomorrow.

But I can't miss this presentation.

_It'll be fine._


	15. 15

The sun rises, and my father is still not home.

He's been gone for thirty six hours. Without answering any calls, any texts.

"He'll be home soon," my mom assures me in the morning. "He has nothing but his phone and his wallet."

"Yeah," I murmur, glancing at the clock. 7:53.

School starts in seven minutes.

"Okay," she says kindly, gently brushing my cheek with her fingers. "I'm going to get in the shower. Hang tight."

"I will," I smile guiltily. Feeling a bit bad that the second she heads to the bathroom, I'm hauling ass to school.

"Bye, honey." She presses her lips to my forehead and dashes out of my room.

The second I hear the bathroom door close, I jump out of bed, throwing on an undershirt, a main top, and a jacket, and tug on a pair of thick jeans. Then, I sling my heavy backpack over my shoulders and slide my shoes on.

I'm freezing.

I'm tired.

I'm moody.

Still, I hussle out of the house, and begin to sprint, the wind whistling through my brittle and slick hair.

My legs ache severely, and I can feel my heart threatening to break out of my fragile rib cage, but I still run. I can't miss this presentation. Plus, I'll have the whole weekend to rest. I'll be fine.

I huff as my weak ankles support my lower limbs, carrying me to my place of education.

Something about this run is different.

My heart isn't speeding up, it's slowing down.

I have no time to consider this. I just continue to sprint.

Hell, maybe this could help me lose some more weight. I can consider this my morning jog, because I missed my evening one last night.

I'm really losing energy faster than usual. I can feel weights threatening to drag me to the pavement, pummeling me until I completely shatter.

Keep going.

Everything hurts.

I haven't ran this fast in a long, long time. But I know that with track coming up, I'm going to have to get used to it.

I suppose you could say I'm just getting a head start to the track season ahead of me.

But if I'm feeling this shitty when I'm doing sprints, it'll be a rough one for sure.

Finally, I see the cement building up ahead, and I heave a sigh of relief through my exercise induced pants. I stumble inside, shoving past students and trampling through the halls, finally flinging myself into the Ancient History classroom as the bell rings.

Nearly thirty heads raise in unison as I shuffle to my seat, next to a bewildered Jun.

"Are you okay?" Jun whispers as I collapse in my chair.

"I'm great," I reply, breathing heavily as Mr. Lee eyes me suspiciously. My arms swing from my shoulders, and I feel Jun's fingers meet mine. I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back reassuringly.

"Minghao, glad you could make it," my teacher says, evenly but sincerely, while raising his clipboard. "Alright. So, we have presentations today! Woo hoo!"

His cheers are met with silence.

"Okay," he clears his throat. "Who wants to go first?"

I glance at Jun, who nods encouragingly. We raise our hands that aren't linked.

"Awesome," Mr. Lee beams. I wearily stand, my thighs quivering, and grip the edge of my desk. I hear whispers as I struggle to keep myself up.

They're probably talking about how skinny I am.

About how weak I am.

Laughing at me.

My teeth chattering, I look at Jun drowsily.

"Minghao, are you alright?" Mr. Lee questions, eyebrows furrowed in worry. I nod, my hand tightening around Jun's.

"Mr. Lee, can I talk to Minghao really quick? Outside?" Jun glances at the classroom door. The teacher nods.

"Yes, of course."

Jun helps me outside, as the class exchanges hushed conversations between themselves. I see Mingyu frowning, giving me the thumbs up and down. Asking if I'm alright nonverbally. I nod again, kindly smiling as the door closes and Jun tugs me down the hall.

"Minghao," he says worriedly, stepping towards me and gently pressing me against the lockers, so I have something to lean on. "You need to go home."

"I'm fine," I lie. I can feel a foreign sensation beginning to sprout in the center of my chest, unlike anything I have ever felt before. "Just recovering."

"What happened yesterday, anyways?" Jun inquires, his hands on my shoulders. I curl my lip and look away, my gaze meeting the large doors that lead outside.

"I was sick."

"Well, yeah," he smiles a bit, "but what was specifically wrong? Did you have food poisoning, the flu, maybe a bad bout of coughing, or what?"

"I was just," I sigh, "I don't know. I felt ill. So I stayed home."

Jun nods slowly. Completely unconvinced.

"Okay, then," he murmurs. "Are you contagious?"

"No." Unless anorexia can be spread through touch, I'm good.

"Good." He plants a kiss on my cheek, his soft lips caressing my oily skin. I can feel a smile growing on my face that matches his. My eyes flicker to the poster next to us, promoting prom.

"Hey," I smirk, glancing at the poster. "Would you look at that?"

Make small talk.

If your treatment for this is rigorous enough, you may not see Jun for a long, long time.

Jun pulls away, and stares at the banner. "Oh, yeah. Are you going with anyone?"

I shake my head, ignoring the growing discomfort in my body. "You?"

"No, but I want to ask someone," he concedes, making eye contact with me. "Hey, Minghao, um, I was wondering-"

"You guys ready?"

Mr. Lee stands at the entrance to the classroom, glaring at us expectantly. We nod in unison.

"Hang on," Jun calls out, before returning his gaze to me. "Please go home, Minghao. You aren't ready to come back to school."

I sigh. "Fine. After the presentation."

"The presentation isn't as important as your well being, dude."  
"I know," I shrug. "I still want to do it."

Jun stares at me, and rolls his eyes. "Fine. Let's go."

Something is definitely wrong. I can feel this toxic flower in my upper body beginning to bloom. It's like heartburn, but without any pain, as odd as it sounds. As we begin our journey back to the classroom, everything begins to dance in and out of focus. Like tears obscuring my vision.

I say nothing, and continue to enter the class, smiling at my peers and making my way to the front of the room.

I really want to take a nap.

I feel a hand on my elbow, and I snap my head towards the owner of the appendage. My teacher.

"Minghao, are you feeling alright? Please be honest with me."

I nod confidently. "Yep."

"Okay." He paces back to his desk. "Right," Mr. Lee booms, loading our Prezi onto the projector. "Jun and Minghao will be doing their presentation on Egyptian Burial Practices. Fire away, guys." The teacher sits back in his office chair as I begin to speak. Knowing Jun simply lacks the Korean skills to do it on his own.

"Okay," I say, trembling. I'm not nervous. So why do I feel so odd? "I'm Xu Minghao, this is Wen Junhui, and we are doing our project on Egyptian Burial Practices." I nod sleepily at Mr. Lee, who moves on to the next slide.

"Egyptians preserved their dead through mummification." My words have become slurred and semi comprehensible. Very unlike my normal presentations, which are always top notch.

What the hell is going on?

I take a few steps back, leaning against the whiteboard. Jun eyes me, concerned, before reading off the bullets we both know I should be announcing.

"Mummification is a process in which bodies are preserved through taking out the organs and using various materials to keep the corpse in a good state." He stumbles over a few words, but otherwise, he sounds amazing.

And then, my hearing begins to fail me as well.

His words bounce off of my eardrums, echoing in the room as the world twists and sways around me. I feel an irregular flutter in my chest, like untrained fingers attempting to play the piano.

I inhale, and find myself wheezing, for it feels like my lungs have shrunk to the size of raisins.

"M-Mummification," I falter, sucking in one lengthy breath before I feel hands on my back as my knees buckle, and several ghostly figures approach me.

Shrieks ring out distantly as my vision begins to fade.

"Jeonghan, get the principal!"

"Oh my God!"  
"Someone call 911!"

And then, my mom is there, but she isn't worried or anything.

She looks healthy.

Then, my dad appears, looking just as well.

My grandmother joins them.

My dog, Paws, who died when I was twelve.

Mingyu.

Joshua.

Dino.

Jun.

All of my loved ones.

A faint light appears in the center of the frantic world, and I find myself drawn to the orb.

Jun offers a hand to me, outstretched and penetrating the incandescence.

I reach towards him, and the shining light swallows up everything around me as a deafening silence drowns my soul in sorrow.


	16. 16

_Brilliantly bright._


	17. 17

_Luminescent light._


	18. 18

_A dreadfully dark twilight, absent of stars._


	19. 19

_Lulled larks, stripped of feathers. Dignity. Life._


	20. 20

_All is calm, all is bright._

_Peaceful.  
_

_Safe._


	21. 21

_**Dead.** _


	22. 22

Lifeless, monotonous beeping brings me out of my sleepy stupor.

I struggle to open my eyes, as the room I am in is almost entirely white. The bed I am laying in is white. The walls are white. The tiles are white.

Something hangs from my left arm. My right reaches for the device, and finds a tubular device, stretching upwards.

"Don't touch that," a familiar voice sings.

Squinting against the sharp colors, I let my head roll towards the sound.

It's Mingyu.

"Hi," I croak, hardly even using my vocal cords. It's just an exhale that weakly carries a monosyllabic word.

"Hey," he smiles, scooting forward in his chair. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit sleepy," I admit. I begin to sit up, and a wave of nausea and dizziness suddenly floods through my body, drowning my organs in soreness. Sharp pain stabs at my sides, around my upper body, and I gasp.

"Woah there, partner," Mingyu snorts, gently placing his hand on my shoulder and lightly pushing me back down. "Take it easy."

"What even happened?" I ask, exhausted and hurting.

Mingyu lowers his eyes, pursing his lips and exhaling loudly. "You, God, I'm still sort of in shock. Sorry."

"Just tell me," I plead.

Mingyu's warm irises meet mine. "You went into cardiac arrest."

It's hard to explain how I feel when he says this.

I'm shocked.

Horrified.

Angry.

Confused.

But at the same time, I'm a bit neutral. Sort of like seeing that something awful has happened on the news. You're devastated, but in a state of shock and denial.

_That couldn't have possibly happened, right?_

"I-I don't know what to say," I murmur.

"And that's fine," he assures me. "Do you want to hear the whole story, or wait?"

"I want to see my mom."

Mingyu nods. "She's talking with the doctor right now. She'll be back any second."

I sigh, staring at the ceiling, devoid of details. "Okay."

We sit there in a relative silence for a bit while I examine my surroundings. I have an IV pumping God knows what into my arm, and several cords on my sides and chest that connect to a few machines around me. A pulse reader is attached to my right index finger, which shows a steady pulse of fifty nine beats per minute on the monitor. A cuff is fastened around my forearm, and I can feel a mask like tube contraption on my face, streaming cool air into my nostrils.

There's an old television in front of me, dangling from the wall, and several chairs around my bed. Next to my bed is a table, filled with cards, flowers and balloons. I'm far too weak to grab any of them, but I can read the covers from here.

All of them are wishing me a quick recovery.

The door to my room opens, and a tall woman in scrubs walks inside, followed by my gaunt looking mother. Both of them see that I'm awake at the same time.

"Minghao!" my mother wails, hurrying towards me and throwing her arms around my frail figure. A bit worn out, I return her embrace, holding onto my mom tightly. In my peripheral vision, I see the unfamiliar lady exchange words with Mingyu, who departs the room.

"I love you, I'm sorry, I'm an idiot, I'm sorry, I love you so much, I should've never left," I whisper, over and over and over. She just whimpers lightly, her fingers stroking my hair.

"No," she sobs, staring at me with teary eyes. "Not now. I'm just, I'm grateful to still have my baby."

Heat manifests behind my pupils, and I taxingly smile at my mother, a single saline drop trailing past my lips and dripping from my chin.

"I'm going to stop crying and let the doctor talk," Mom laughs bittersweetly, taking Mingyu's now empty seat and holding onto my hand.

"You're fine," she smiles, facing me. "Minghao, how are you feeling?"  
"Shitty," I concede, and my mom squeezes my palm when I utter the curse word. I see the nurse in front of me chuckle a bit.

"I bet. You've had quite the day."

"What even happened?" I ask wearily. "Mingyu told me I went into cardiac arrest."  
I hear my mom sniffle next to me as the doctor nods slowly. "Yes," she says. "You did. At about eight fifteen, while you were in class, your heart gave out."

I knew what that meant. Still, I ask her, just to make sure. "My heart stopped?"  
"Yes," she says again. "You were clinically dead for twelve minutes."

I was dead.

_Dead._

For seven hundred and twenty seconds, my future was nonexistent.  
For seven hundred and twenty seconds, I had no chance of ever recovering from anorexia. Of going to prom. Of competing in track. Of getting my first car. Getting married. Having kids. Growing old. Being a grandparent.

For seven hundred and twenty seconds, all of that was gone.

"Oh dear God," I whisper shakily.

"But, as you've figured out by now, we got you back," she says reassuringly. "It took almost non stop CPR and four shocks from a defibrillator, but we got you back. That's why," she gestures to my chest, "your ribs may hurt. CPR can be a bit,  _forceful_ , and in the process, three of your ribs broke."

I nod, barely registering anything in my mind as she speaks. I weakly open my mouth to ask a question.

"Who did CPR on me?"

"Your teacher," the doctor replies blankly. "Mr. Lee."

_Mr. Lee saved my life?_

What a day this has been.

"How did this happen?"  
"Well," she says, inhaling deeply. "From testimonies by your friends and family, it appears that it was likely a complication of anorexia nervosa. Your heart was just working so hard to keep up that when you finally ran to school this morning, it gave out on you."

"However," she says quickly. "You're in good shape right now. Well, your heart is."

"A-Am I going to be able to do track this year?"  
My mother and the doctor exchange a nervous look, and their silence answers my question. I curl my lip, letting another tear wearily fall. It's funny, how the idea of dying for about a fifth of an hour didn't make me cry, but not being able to run this spring really made me lose it.

"When am I getting out of here?"

"You're in intensive care right now," my doctor tells me. "You'll probably be discharged once we're sure that your heart has healed enough to return to your daily life. But," she looks at my mom again. "Once you're discharged, you'll be going to an anorexia recovery center in Seoul."

_Seoul._

Our small town of just ten thousand people lies over two hundred miles away from the South Korean capital.

"I won't be able to finish the school year, huh," I say softly.

My mother shakes her head, not making eye contact with me. "Not here," she says quietly. "They offer classes at the treatment center," Mom says kindly. I shake my head. It's not the same.

I'm not going to be able to see my friends every day.

I won't be able to represent my district in track.

I'll miss all of the inside jokes and the humor and Joshua's stupid daydreams during lunch and everyone making idiotic remarks and Mr. Lee's cross but playful manner and I'll miss Jun.

"Is there any chance I can just stay here and get treatment?" I beg. "Please?"

"I'm so sorry," the doctor says firmly but empathetically. "It's for the best, Minghao."

I stare at the foot of my bed, my gaze unwavering. Unfocused.

Curling up under my blankets, I clutch the covers and close my eyes.

Hoping and praying that I would wake up from this horrendous nightmare.

Knowing I never will.


	23. 23

Joshua, Mingyu and Dino come to visit me again about an hour later.

"Dude," Dino shrieks, shaking with a mixture of conflicting emotions. "It was crazy. You just went down, and then Mr. Lee was doing CPR, and then there were paramedics, and holy  _shit_. It was nuts."

"Cool," I say vacantly, staring outside.

"And, like, people were like, oh my god, and I was like, shooketh, right?"

"Yep."

"Dino, how about you go to the waiting room?" Joshua says gently to the boisterous freshman. He nods giddily and prances out of the room.

"He's a bit shaken up," Mingyu says quietly. "That's his way of coping, I guess."  
"Yeah," I agree.

Silence.

"Minghao, why didn't you ask for help?" Joshua asks quietly.

"You know we'd support you, right?"

I nod, ashamed. "I just didn't think it was too bad. I just wanted to diet a tiny bit, you know? I needed to get slimmer."

"But you don't, Minghao," Mingyu presses, staring at me intently. "You were perfectly healthy."

"It didn't feel that way," I insist, "and it still doesn't, to some extent. I still feel fat and ugly and not good enough, and I'm angry at myself for worrying to all of you,"

"Minghao, we're fine," Joshua assures me. "The only person you should be worried about is yourself."

"But I'm still scared that you guys are messed up over this," I interject. "I died in front of you. That shit fucks you up."

"It's scary," Mingyu agrees, nodding his head, "but we have you now. And that's all that matters."

I nod absently, spacing out as they speak.

What have I done?

A crisp knock echoes from the door, and all three of us immediately face the entrance as my doctor gently opens the door.

"Minghao," she says sweetly, opening it a bit more to reveal a familiar face beside her. "You have a visitor."

Jun.

Eyes wide, I watch as he bites his red lips, quietly staring.

"Come on in," I smile.

Mingyu and Joshua exchange a glance before standing up and beginning to pace towards the exit. But before they leave, I see Mingyu shoot me a suggestive look, his eyes darting between Jun and I.

I stick my tongue out in a rude manner and the older boy smirks before leaving with Joshua and the nurse, leaving Jun and I alone.

"Well," he says lightly, sitting down on the edge of my bed. "I hope Mr. Lee passes us."

I snort, and the two of us break into fits of silly laughter. I'm not sure why I find his remark so damn funny, but it makes me practically cry because that's just how humorous it is.

Maybe I'm finally losing it.

"He's had an eventful day," I agree. "Is it true? That he did CPR on me?"

Jun nods. "Yeah." He looks down at his denim jeans. "I really thought you weren't going to wake up."

"Jokes on you," I sneer. "I'm still breathing, bro."

He doesn't answer, and I realize how shaken up he is from the sudden turn of events.

"I just," he sighs, placing his chin in his hands while staring at his knees. "I feel like this is my fault."

"How is this your fault?" I whisper, struggling to scoot closer to him. Even though we're both confined to two different prisons.

"I should've told someone," he murmurs, folding his hands together. "Maybe if I told a counselor or something, you could've gotten help before this all happened."

"Jun," I assure him, reaching for his clenched fists. I place my palm over his. "This was going to happen eventually. It was only a matter of time. And I'm going to get help now. Plus," I say hesitantly, "you helped me more than you can ever understand." I decide to refrain from telling him about who I saw as I faded in and out of consciousness.

I don't know how to explain it, necessarily.

He looks up, eyes scarlet and glossy. "How?"

I inhale deeply, taking a big breath to calm my nerves. "Whenever I'm around you, it's like I'm not, I don't know. It's like my life isn't falling apart. It's like you're," I stop, unsure of what to say.

He's blushing like crazy.

"It's like you're my lifeline."

His irises point to the empty spot on my bed next to me, then my own dark eyes. I nod, and he lays down, wrapping his arms around me tightly and straddling my legs so he's practically spooning me.

"I'm glad to hear that," he mumbles, his lips brushing my ear.

We lay together forfor a few moments. Engaged in an amorous embrace. Simply enjoying the presence of each other.

"Jun," I murmur.

"Yes?"  
I turn my head, so our foreheads are barely touching. "Before everything happened, you were about to ask me something. Out in the hallway."

I watch as the heat rises to his face again, and he looks down, his temple brushing the tip of my nose. "It isn't important. Don't worry about it."

"If it isn't important," I tease, "you would've forgotten about it."

He sighs, his breath smelling like mint and jasmine. "Damn you."

I give him a cheesy grin, and he rolls his eyes with a smirk.

"It's a question that I won't ask here, because it isn't the right time and place."  
"Jun," I whine, placing my hands on his shoulders and gently shaking him. "I'm curious now!"

"Nope," he beams, taking my wrists and letting his fingers slide to mine, lacing together. "Not now."  
"Please?"  
"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Fine."

"No."

"Aha!" I shriek, squeezing his hands. "It isn't fine! You want to ask me!"  
"No," he stops me. "Wait. Shit. Okay. God, you're adorable."

"Thanks," I giggle, burying my face into the crook of his neck. "I try."

"But for real," he says, his semi serious tone making a return. "Do you really want to hear it?"

"Depends," I say sweetly, looking up at him, my hairline pressed against his chin. "Is it good or bad?"  
"It depends," Jun retorts, and I smile widely. He sighs, and delicately moves me so we're facing each other again, both laying on our sides. "Minghao, do you want to go to prom with me?"

I stare into his deep, deep eyes. Brimming with so many different emotions.

Trepidation, melancholy, jubilance, adventure.

"Yes," I grin giddily. "I will."

"Whew," he smirks, pretending to wipe nonexistent sweat off of his brow. "That went well."

"You shouldn't have had to worry," I assure Jun, pulling him close to me and wrapping my limbs around him. "Oh, and by the way. While we were on our way to your house, after the Subway fiasco, you asked me something."

_"Wait," I stop him. "Are we a thing?"_

_Jun stops, and turns in my direction, so we're facing each other. "Do you want to be a thing?"_

"Yeah?" Jun looks intrigued. As if he's forgotten his inquiry.

I mean, it must not have been important to him if he slipped from his memory.

Then again, he just asked me to prom. So what do I have to lose?  
"You asked me if you wanted us to be a  _thing_ ," I say daringly. "Well, I have an answer for you." I move away from Jun so we're back in our normal positions. I want to see his face when I give him the long awaited response to his question.

"Okay," he says a bit nervously, a smile tugging at his sweet lips. He definitely remembered. That little bitch was just being, well, a little bitch.

"I do," I say dramatically.

"Same!" Jun beams, showing off his teeth in a triumphant grin.

"However," I avert my gaze, staring at the blank walls around me. "Can we go slow? It's just been such a hectic few days, and I don't know if I want to dive into a relationship yet."

I feel fingertips grazing my cheekbone, and I face Jun again.

"Of course," he tells me. Slowly and sincerely. It isn't fake or pouty.

One look tells me that Jun truly means what he says.

"Thank you," I breathe, never looking away from the older boy. He nods kindly, keeping his palm cradled around my chin.

"I'm going to ask you something now," he says with a semi sly smile.

"Fire away."

"Can I kiss you?"  
I keep my composure neutral, even though I'm having another fanboy attack on the inside.

"I've been throwing up, my lips are chapped as hell, and I haven't brushed my teeth in, like, two days," I warn him. "If you couldn't tell by my horrendous breath."

Jun shrugs. "I don't care."  
"In that case," I say, leaning forwards slightly. "You can."

"Okay," he whispers, eyes flickering to my dry lips. I feel my eyelids flutter shut as his breath gets warmer and warmer, and finally, our lips connect.

The kiss isn't like the stereotypical ones in movies. You know, the ones where it's really intense and passionate and heated. Where there's tongue and spit and weird suction cup noises and hands going everywhere.

This one isn't anything like that. It's almost timid. Shy.

However, it's still heartfelt.

And it's the best kiss I've ever had.

So I don't pull away until I realize I'm not breathing, and then I break our contact, gasping for air.

"Oh my God," Jun shrieks, his hands still on my face. "What's wrong? Do I need to call a nurse?"  
"No, no," I choke out, lightly laughing. "I just forgot to breathe."

"Goddammit, Minghao," Jun snickers, and I find myself howling with laughter again, wrapped in Jun's embrace, comforted by his warmth and security.

"Oh, and I have to ask another question," I giggle, grinning like an idiot.

"What?" Jun quirks an eyebrow.

"This may sound weird," I confess, "but do you use, like, jasmine infused soap or something?"

Now, Jun is laughing, his smile brightening the room. "Yeah," the older boy concedes. "I do. It must be working, if you can pick up on it."

"Yep," I say merrily, popping the p before pecking his cheek and cuddling with him again.

God, I love him.

So what the hell am I going to do at the treatment center, without Jun to keep me company?


	24. 24

After a week of careful cardiac monitoring, slowly increasing the amount of calories I consume from five hundred to seven hundred, and rehydrating my fragile form, I stand in my barren medical room, ready to make the flight to Seoul.

"Remember," Jun said, about an hour before I found myself upright and waiting in my bedroom. We stood together, foreheads pressed against each others. "You're going to be okay."

"But you won't be there," I murmured against his lips.

"I'm going to call you every day," he reminded me. "And I'll be texting you nonstop."  
"Likewise," I said bittersweetly, before kissing him again.

Now, I have a visitor that I haven't seen ever since my admission to the hospital. As he walks in, I gingerly wrap my arms around Mr. Lee, who kindly and professionally returns my embrace.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I gasp as I attempt, and fail, to conceal the tears threatening to spill over my quivering eyelids. "Thank you. I can never thank you enough."

"Don't mention it, kid," my teacher assures me, holding me as I cry.

"I'm so sorry I did this to you," I sob, clutching his jacket in my shaking fists.

"Minghao," Mr. Lee says soothingly. "I know others have probably already said this to you, but I will say it again. I am fine. You need to be worried about yourself."

"I know," I croak. "But I just want to know that you'll be okay."

"I'll be fine," he tells me. "I just want to know that  _you'll_  be okay."

I giggle, and gently pull away from him. "Thank you. Again."

"Don't mention it. Again." Mr. Lee smiles lightly.

"Oh, Mr. Lee?" I ask.

"Yes?"

"Did Jun and I get a good grade on our presentation?"

Mr. Lee suddenly laughs loudly, his wrinkled face contorting into an expression of hilarity. "I haven't had the chance to grade it," he wheezes, still chuckling. "But I think it'll be fine. You always turn in high quality work."

"Thanks, I guess," I say, a bit shy.

"Of course. Listen, I want you to take time to heal, mentally and physically. Don't feel obligated to make a quick recovery and come back when you aren't ready. Just, get better. Okay?"

I nod as my mother walks in. "Okay."

Mr. Lee turns to my parent, and acknowledges her presence with a quick hello before departing the room, giving me another wave as he disappears. My mother faces me, taking my hands.

It's been a week, and I still haven't seen my father.

"Mom," I say, finally choosing to ask about his absence. "Where's Dad?"

She purses her lips, her grip on my hands tightening. Gently but firmly.

"Minghao," she says softly. "He's in Haicheng."

"What?" I question incredulously. "Why isn't he here?"

My mom looks outside, avoiding my pressing gaze. "I'm done with his bullshit. That's why."

A metaphorical weight drops onto my stomach, and I close my eyes, lowering my head and inhaling heavily.

_He's gone._

I'm relieved, but also a bit shocked.

"When did you leave him?" I ask quietly.

"The day you had your episode," she replies solemnly. "He came back briefly, after I told him what happened. And he said awful, awful things which I won't repeat. So," my mom sighs. "I basically told him to get the hell out of here before I made his life miserable. And he did."

_Wow._

"Wow."

"Yeah, well," she says a bit sarcastically. "This is a new chapter in our lives. We're going to get through this, and we may be at a rough patch right now, but it'll smoothen out."

I nod.

"Right."

A new chapter.

A new beginning.

A new life with Jun. Without Dad. Without a calorie counter, without a pessimistic voice always nagging at me.

A second chance that I will gladly take.

Starting today, I am a new person. 


	25. Thank you for reading!

Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy life to read my story. It honestly means a lot to me and I'm very thankful that you found my work interesting enough to look at.

Although I do post on AO3 occasionally, this is not my main writing site. I have a profile on Wattpad, @MoonSapphire17, that has pretty much all of my work. On that page, I'm currently working on a Yoonmin fic, Seventeen Oneshots, a Hyungwonho story, a Sinrin fanfiction, and I'll be releasing a Jihan book soon as well. Also on my profile is a Markjin fanfiction.

Once again, thank you so much!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 <3 I hope you liked this story!!


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